John Stieber - Against the Odds - Survival on the Russian Front 1944-1945 [2nd Edition]

The following morning I was able to take stock of my new surroundings. The encampment was situated on a flat clearing in a dense wood. There were seven large timber huts, five of which provided sleeping accommodation; another contained the kitchen, canteen and washrooms, while the last was the general store and first-aid centre, with a small ward. The accommodation huts contained two dormitories, sleeping twenty men each, and a medium-sized dayroom. The NCOs slept in our huts, but they had a section to themselves.

After breakfast we were issued with our new clothing and equipment. The formal uniform, which was worn only on parade and all leave of absence, was of an attractive chocolate-brown colour. It was made of high quality, felt-like, material and the dress hat that went with it had a stiff, conspicuously high dome. For labouring work and military drill, we were given light-coloured fatigues and a peaked cap to match.

The Labour Service, known as the RAD (Reichsarbeits-Dienst), was prescribed by decree of 6 September, 1936, and covered every able-bodied citizen of the Third Reich. All German men between nineteen and twenty-five had to work in labour camps. Most were assigned to farms where they worked in accordance with a strict disciplinary code under responsible leadership. During the war, men were drafted into the Labour Service at eighteen, and later at seventeen, years of age, so that they would have completed their stint when they were conscripted to the army. As the concept developed, men were employed in road building and other civil engineering projects and wherever a large pool of unskilled labourers was required. When the RAD was first established, men had to work in it for six months, but during the war the period was reduced to three months so that men could be released sooner to the armed services.

The RAD made no distinction; intellectuals, labourers, artisans and peasants were all subjected to common tasks. A cheap labour pool was thus set up and unemployment was reduced at the same time. Another aim of the RAD was to achieve a mix of people from the whole of Germany. Since there can be quite a difference in the characteristics of people living in different regions, it was considered essential to encourage a greater understanding of all one’s fellow countrymen.

German girls had to do a spell of twelve months in the Labour Service during their three years in the BDM, between eighteen and twenty-one years of age. They usually spent the year on farms, helping in the house and the fields.

My sister, Erika, did her Labour Service in Austria while I was still in Haubinda. She worked on a farm in the beautiful Tyrolean valley of the river Stubai and was very happy there. Since then, Erika’s life had not been without its hazards. After attending an interpreter’s school in Leipzig, she was called up for service in an important naval communication centre in Wilhelmshaven. This city was a major warship base and was repeatedly hit by Allied air-raids. When the town was badly destroyed in 1943, the communication centre moved to the inland town of Hildesheim, south of Hannover. Then Hildesheim itself was levelled by air-strikes in 1944, so Erika’s unit moved to the town of Werdau, not far from the northern border of Bohemia. Here, at last, she was out of danger.

In my labour camp we had to work as lumberjacks in the vast coniferous woods around us. Although I spent less than three months in the RAD, I remember it as a very satisfying period in my life. Working or marching, it was all healthy exercise in beautiful surroundings where the snow lay heavy on the ground and on the trees. It never seemed to rain and my memories are of blue skies and the sun bathing the landscape in brilliant light. The purity of the air is something else I vividly remember, especially after the pollution around the FLAK battery.

I got on well with the others in the hut and we had a relaxed relationship with the NCOs. Strict discipline was maintained in the camp, but there was nothing autocratic about it.

In the weeks ahead I acquired an important skill, which was to serve me well in the army and also in later life. I was taught how to lift and carry heavy loads safely and efficiently. Shifting weighty logs on my own and long tree-trunks in a gang of men, sometimes over a considerable distance, became routine as my technique improved.

When working in the woods, we became so much part of the scenery that animals accepted our presence fearlessly. Families of wild boar or deer would often amble past, sometimes just fifteen yards away.

Every day we did marching exercises similar to those done by regular army recruits, with one important difference; we did not train with rifles. All drill exercises were carried out with spades which meant that, though the manipulation had to be slightly different, the same effect was achieved. Going through the exercises in brilliant sunshine on the parade ground actually looked far more striking than if we had been using rifles. The flash of light reflected from hundreds of polished spade heads as they were smartly swung, or angled, in perfect unison was most spectacular.

The spade used in the RAD was just a standard digging implement. What made ours different was the care it was given. Only a person, who has gone through this knows how much painstaking work is necessary to prepare a spade that must pass a sergeant-major’s eagle eye. I remember often being pulled up, even when I honestly knew that I had covered every square millimetre of mine and brought it to the condition of a highly polished jewel.

One of the first things I did after joining the RAD was to apply to join the elite Paratroop and Tank Division Hermann Göring, which was looking for volunteers. I was in no way motivated to becoming a soldier and must admit that, if the choice had been mine, I would have remained a civilian throughout the war. The whole idea of my going to Germany had been to continue my education there and not to get my head blown off fighting for Hitler. As it was, I knew that I would be conscripted in three months time and there were two important reasons for having a say in the matter:

Firstly, it was known that many young men were currently being drafted into the Waffen SS (the military arm of the political SS) and that certain SS units were called on to commit acts of questionable legality. I reasoned that if the Division Göring had already accepted me, I could not be drafted into the Waffen SS.

Secondly, if I had to be a soldier, I wanted to have the best possible training, and this I would get in an elite division. Although the primary motive for my wish must have been self-preservation, I also felt that I was too valuable to be sent into a trench with scant training, and for the sole purpose of pulling a trigger. Besides, my father had been an officer in the renowned Austrian Kaiserjäger (Mountain Troops) in World War I and I think that I may have been also motivated by sub-conscious ambition.

I had been in the camp for only a week when I made a discovery that was to transform my existence there. One day, I got into conversation with two RAD men from another hut that had an exceptional interest in the humanities. They were twin brothers, Heinz and Günther Heinelt, from the town of Greifswald on the Baltic Coast. In contrast to their six-footer frames, they were soft-spoken and of a gentle disposition.

Both were very keen violin players and, when they heard that I had played the violin for many years, they suggested that we get together in our free time to make music. None of us had an instrument with us, but that turned out to be no problem. When we approached our senior officers for permission to bring forward our first short leave to the end of the following week, and gave the explanation, permission was immediately granted. One reason for this cooperation was that an officer called Jablonski, who was an enthusiastic trumpet player, wanted to join our group.