Armin Scheiderbauer - Adventures in My Youth

Then the nag collapsed again, for good, out of sheer exhaustion. The men began to curse and it took a long time until weapons and equipment were unloaded. When, years later, I read Dostoevsky’s ‘Crime and Punishment’, when I was reading of Raskolnikov’s dream I had to think of that image. The devastated Nikolka with blood-rimmed eyes swings the jemmy over his horse, breaking out into the cry of ‘It is my property, it is my property’.

My voice had become so hoarse that it was hard to make myself understood. It was the result of continually shouting out orders. For the longer my voice lasted the less the runners needed to run. Marches went on throughout the night, often as much as 30 kilometres. That meant even further for the runners, for in addition to the march that the unit had to make they had to cover even more ground in carrying messages. At the start of a march people still carried on conversations, but gradually the men fell silent, silent as the night.

At that time I was proud of the state of my feet. They showed no blisters or bruising and had nowhere been rubbed raw. To a certain extent I was an infantryman from the top of my head to the soles of my feet. In fact the soles of my feet were even more important than the top of my head. To the difficulties of the marches was added hunger. At one time it happened that for two days and two nights the field kitchen had not come forward. The baggage-trains lay too far to the rear so that in the heat of the day, and as a result of the long transport distances the food became sour. The bread and the Schmiere , proper margarine, had run out. The ‘iron rations’, a small tin of fatty meat and a little pack of hard tack, were not allowed to be touched. That would only have been allowed in difficult situations. In the villages, in so far as they were not already on fire or had already burnt down, there was nothing to find. The poor inhabitants had nothing to leave. One morning, one bright spark found some beehives. The company, that is we 20 men, licked and slurped with our bare hands at the sticky sweet mass. The powerful bitterness penetrated into your teeth and at first made your empty stomach want to throw up. At other times I can recall myself beside fences on which tomato plants were hanging. The tomatoes were green showing no red at all. We ate gherkins and kohlrabi raw, and hardly cleaned of earth, without ever the dreaded ‘shits’ setting in.

One day the men had sorted out for me a ‘beast of burden’. The ‘beast’ had a string as reins, but neither halter, bridle nor saddle. At first it quite docilely let me get on to it and with one jump I was up. At that time the battalion was marching in ranks through the night. To sit comfortably on the smooth horse’s back and to be carried by it was an almost uncanny feeling. But my satisfaction only lasted until we reached the next village. As I was riding past one of the burning houses, a glowing beam fell down and sparks flew up. My horse took fright, gave a jerk and bolted with me. It charged off at a gallop. I passed other fires and passed the long ranks of the battalion, marching slowly one behind the other. I was not able to subdue the nag and losing my balance came off its back. Slipping to the left I was simply unable to let go of the string that served as reins. With my right foot I hung over the crupper and held myself under the horse’s neck as it raced through the village with me. Then it calmed down or else the load on its neck had become too heavy. Snorting, it finally stopped, was calm again and let me remount as if nothing had happened. But the involuntary and dangerous comedy of my situation had a cheering effect, and the good-natured ribbing that I received did not upset me.

On 4 October, word came that we were reaching the final line and the withdrawal was completed. That news gave new life to our tired bodies and spirits. The battalion commander announced that the new position was well constructed and that the field kitchens were waiting with masses of food. Front-line combat packs and fresh lice-free underwear were to be issued. There were also additional rations and a few sweets. Still more important were the announcements that there were replacements for the company. We would once again be topped up to full company strength.

Two kilometres from the new main line of resistance there lay in our sector the little village of Puply. Because it could offer accommodation to the enemy and could affect our line of sight and field of fire, military necessity required that it should be destroyed. Such unchivalrous business had not, until then, been part of our war. But where was there room for chivalry in that war? My company was ordered to set fire to the houses on the right-hand side of the street. There, in the vicinity of Smolensk and the Bolschaja , the highway, the little wooden houses showed more signs of civilisation then we had seen until then. It was evident that we were close to the city, as indicated by a brass bedstead that I saw in one house.

Apart from a few old people, the inhabitants had left the village. Tears were running over the lined faces of those who had stayed behind. An absolutely ancient man, who had recognised me as an officer, raised his hands. He moaned, and asked me to spare the house in which he had lived all his life and where he wanted to die. The old man moved me. It was strange that intensive propaganda, and the manifold impressions of the ruthlessness of that campaign, had not been able completely to suppress sheer human sensitivity. I struggled with my feelings of duty, and was relieved that my men sympathised with me when I ordered them to spare the house of the old man.

My company went forward and set fire to the next wooden house with a bundle of straw. The old man tried to kiss my hands, and wished me a long life. Waving away his thanks, I stressed to him that he should take care that the flames did not spring from the neighbouring house on to his. If among the men there had been a ‘bigwig’ or a ‘fanatic’ I would have risked a court martial on account of that old Russian. But there were none of that kind among us. Once a man was among frontline soldiers, he soon relearned his true values.

In the evening we moved in to the new position. The company sector was well located. The position, on a low slope, had a good field of fire and line of sight over a depression in the ground. On the other side the terrain climbed again, flat, towards the smouldering village. Whether the old man’s house had remained intact could not be seen because of the smoke and the trees that were still in leaf. To a certain extent the trenches were reasonably well constructed, but in numerous places really flat. There had not been enough time to construct bunkers such as we had been accustomed to in our trench warfare. Nevertheless we found some quite large holes in the ground, about the length of a man and 150 centimetres deep. Many had been covered with a thin layer of wooden beams. I set up my command post in such a ‘hole’. In it there was room for three men. A couple of arms full of hay saw to it that there was a bit of warmth in the early autumn nights that were becoming chilly.

The field kitchen had actually arrived. There were gigantic portions of warm Leberwurst with Stampfkartoffeln . Since the amount of rations in combat did not match the current complement of the unit, the portions for dead and wounded comrades were given to the living. That had less of an effect in the case of food, as in any case you could not eat more then your fill. But in the case of schnapps, tobacco, and frontline combat packs those who remained enjoyed the extra. Not a few fathers of families sent home their surplus food. I sent a parcel of it to my nine years old sister Liesl.

It was a special blessing that the field post was then distributed. During the withdrawal it had not reached us. Within three days I received 25 letters. On 8 October I was able to reply to five letters from my Mother. In that letter I wrote that the physical exertions were soon likely to be at an end. But we were still living without any extras. For four weeks I had not been able to wash, shave, or clean my teeth.