The Norwegians were to be more difficult, more earnest and contemplative. Once you had won their trust too, however, then you had it forever. Most came from villages or small towns from that sparsely populated land, having grown up in comparatively close-knit, down-to-earth communities. They were calmer, possessed a youthful, carefree light-heartedness, which within their military sphere developed their instincts to almost carelessness later, in particular where their own personal safety on the front was concerned. Those young men could also be a joy to their instructors and many were to show how much they were prepared to offer in their first operation as soldiers, and what magnificent comrades those volunteers would prove to be.
With the standard commands, the verbal chaos between the Danes and Norwegians, Flemish, Dutch, and Germans, was gradually overcome. Just as the French 140 years before, Germany had after-all a function in Europe and through their language, especially in the evening after duty, the communication ‘barrier’ of the new ‘European Army’ collapsed.
The language of weapons was foremost in Klagenfurt and demanded from those who carried them, the utmost from every man. We had believed, in our naïvety, that the military ‘polish’ suffered in Sennheim could not be improved upon. We were to learn very quickly, how wrong we were. It was all part of a procedure in supplying the ‘Wiking’ division with front-line combat-ready troops.
Our instructors were upright, strapping soldiers from the Ostmark, a new region won from the Polish Campaign, and who were often more Prussian than the Prussians themselves. We had to be professionals, and follow in the footsteps of the front-experienced soldiers and their praiseworthy actions. “Every soldier should be an athlete. He must run with lightning speed, jump as wide and as high as possible, throw as far as he can and march quickly, with stamina and staying power”, said Felix Steiner. The target was to train a modern grenadier who was stalker, hunter and a fierce storm-trooper at the same time.
The privates shouldered the heavy 8cm mortar, dismantled the barrel, strapping the carriage, weighing no less, on to their backs. Others carried the ammo boxes with the rounds, accompanied by the company’s heavy machine-gun squad. After an extensive march, we practised approaching the enemy, for hours on end, using natural protection, when at hand. We chose spots on the edge of woods, hollows or large rocks to erect in haste and with a practised hand, the MG 34 onto its tripod mount. After brief instructions from our instructor, we heard the command, “Sights at 250. Fire!” Twenty-five rounds of blanks per second burst from every barrel. Then we heard, “Volte deckung! stellungswechsel!” and we had to take cover, and change our positions.
When the exercise was not executed with the desired speed, ‘gas-mask’ practice was then on the agenda. Made from rubberised tenting material, breathing through gas-masks was twice as difficult when executing the above-mentioned activity! We thought that we would suffocate. We could not expect pity from our instructors, and received none, for we had to run like greyhounds as the ‘Elite’, be as tough as leather and hard as Krupps steel, which was for us at that moment in time, very, very unimportant. With the pressing weight of the weapons, we climbed the slopes, up and down repeatedly in the searing heat, to then wade in full uniform into an ice-cold river and cross to the other side, because an imaginary bridge had been blown. The torture did not end on the return march, for suddenly a cry “plane from the right”, or left, rang in our ears and we had to dive for cover in a ditch, when one was there, or take flight into the nearest wood.
As a reward and as relaxation, when one could call it that, a visit to the cinema or to the theatre was arranged for the evening. Once again, after our evening meal, the company marched the seven kilometres into Klagenfurt. We found, that with the going-down of the burning sun and marching on tarred roads that the seven kilometres were not so bad. However, we had the seven kilometres to march back to the barracks, after sitting in the warm, dark cosiness of the cinema. Not even the magical Marikka Rokk had kept us awake, in A Night in May. After such an exhausting day our marching feet took us back, practically in our sleep.
The Ufa-films in Klagenfurt were much more to our taste. The ‘films’, from the projector on to the screens in the barracks, were about sexual diseases, for our education, and to shock us! Explained to us in detail by the company doctor, pictures were shown to us, mercilessly impressing the dangers of infection upon us. Examples from the First World War were shown to us, whereby syphilis and gonorrhoea infections were deliberately used as weapons, to put careless soldiers out of action. Somewhat confused by such drastic and extreme measures, in connection with loose sexual practices and their results, the impression made on us, as we young men left the class, did not go unnoticed.
During the day, we were once again to be found on the shadowless barrack square, exercising for hours on end in the merciless sun, which for us had nothing, but nothing to do with the acts of heroes. “Present arms! Tempo one! Tempo two!” was to be heard for weeks on end, and we practised, and practised, until our presentation of arms was exact. Even our ‘goose-step’ for march parades was to become our special talent. We, the 4th Company, were to become the ‘presentation unit’ of the battalion, the honour of which, in the face of things we had fought hard for with our sweat. The punishing drilling in Klagenfurt, which tore at one’s strength, the blunt but necessary hitting the ground, standing up, running to crawl over muddy ground in helmet, with weapon and knapsack, followed us into our dreams, although it did us no harm.
This bodily strengthening was to be our saving on the battlefield and was to prove the saying ‘sweat saves blood’, time and time again saving our skin. The iron discipline and growth to manhood that we had to learn, was to our good stead in tight situations and not only in war, but also in POW camps and the troubled years following the war. Even today, very many of the old comrades have profited personally from their strict military upbringing.
Naturally enough, our lives in Klagenfurt did not only consist of moans and groans. We also had our hours of pleasure on Sundays, gathering together by the well-known stone ‘Lindwurm’ fountain, in the ‘old town’ of the city in order to meet, this time, the ‘daughters of Austria’. Well-groomed and dressed to kill, sometimes our caps a little too slanted over our very short back-and-sides, we ‘lads from Lendorf’ were eagerly awaited by the dirndl, the folk dress of Austria and other Alpine lands. That was how the Ostmark population got to know us, the ‘volunteers’ of the Waffen SS, and that was how we courted the young and feminine of their land. The soldier-lads, quick-witted and intelligent, with their unmistakable native accent when speaking German, were very certain of a response from the ‘maidens from Carinthia’.
Our sergeant-major knew this too. How could he not know? He was from the Ostmark. He warned us every time we had free time against developing a serious relationship. He warned us that we were too young and about to be sent to the front. But he also told us with a grin, that there were never as many illegitimate children to be found in the world, as in Carinthia! It was said that the ‘Lindwurm’ himself would wag his tail, when a virgin were to walk past him, and that has not happened in Klagenfurt, ‘till today!’
Despite the warnings, nothing was going to spoil our fun, including comrades, or those with contact with middle-class young ladies, who were certainly no novices from the nunnery! So it was that in not wanting to part from our ‘flame’, or end our enjoyment in our local on each Sunday evening, we noticed very often, that the time had slipped by and we would arrive at the barrack-gates later than was allowed. In order to avoid house-arrest, or even worse the dreaded extra drill, we chose a spot furthest away from the nearest guards and hopped over the barrack walls and crept in, in stockinged feet, with our boots in our hands, to creep into our beds. We escaped the guards and we escaped the punishment for such an escapade, when in reality it would have been character building and better to have obeyed the rules!