After the stress of the front, the hospital was a real island of peace, and a piece of home. The BDM girls who visited us from time to time saw to that, either by the bedside of the wounded where they sang the happy songs of home, or in the shady garden of the hospital and also by giving useful little presents. I can remember an amusing incident, which at the time rather embarrassed me. I was holding up my hand to be given a razor as they were being distributed. One of the girls placed a bar of chocolate in my hand declaring that my ‘baby-face’ did not need a razor.
Despite the short and measured free time of the nurses, they showed the soldiers the town when they could, once they were on the mend or could walk. Not that there was anything of worth to see. The siege of the town in September 1939 had left its mark. There were many ruins and damaged houses to be seen, witnesses of the bitter fighting for the designated ‘fortress’ of Warsaw. The fate of the Polish capital certainly made an impression on us. A worse time for the people of Warsaw was to come, for in the last phase of the war, it would be destroyed by up to 85%.
After my stay in hospital, I was posted to a rehabilitation unit, richly laden with provisions for my journey to Tobelbad near Graz. I went first to Berlin for a few days’ special leave, and where I got to know Germany’s capital. Despite being wartime, there was more than enough entertainment to choose from, theatre, variety and the cinema, all at half-price for the military. Comrades already in Berlin who knew their way around the city, guided me in all directions. In the hope of seeing ‘the Führer’, we marched to the new Chancellery in Wilhelms street. But instead of seeing him, we were given a brisk salute from a double SS guard, standing to attention outside the gigantic bronze doors.
It was a world full of contrasts for us fighters returning from the Front, returning to a peaceful homeland which we had to digest. We were feted and richly spoiled, not only by private persons but by organisations too, with the maxim “our brave soldiers richly deserve our thanks”. Gifts rained upon us and invitations too. Later that changed radically, the longer the war lasted.
Everyone had their problems and worries. The population had their contribution to make to the war-effort, in working longer hours. 46 hours a week in offices, and 52 hours in the factories. It was also at this time that the restaurants served ‘front-line menus’ on Mondays and Thursdays. That gave the population a taste of front-line cuisine, which was usually a stew, made exactly as the military cooks made it.
Tobelbad, in the green countryside of the Steiermark, reminded me of Carinthia with its forest covered mountains, and slopes covered with fruit trees, only these slopes were gentler and more varied. This idyllic country -side proved to be not only of a healing climate, but for the rehabilitating soldier an impetus for their appetites. In order to offset the hunger that we had from the sparse catering in Tobelbad, we had to find a solution. The solution was always one and the same for any of the military, and was called the ‘fried potato relationship’. As it suggests, the aim of the relationship was always the same, extra food in any form. It had really nothing to do with fried potatoes!
It revolved around a sympathetic, young lady who could lay her hands on this extra food and amongst other things, could cook! My choice was a dark blonde from Strassgang and I happily marched the few kilometres to where she lodged. She was one of those enlisted for ‘work-service’ and who I found very sympathetic. Un fortunately, also in the same lodgings was a man who was head of the kitchen staff, but even so she brought me fruit and sometimes sausage, which she had secretly organised. On Sundays we went from Tobelbad for long walks in the mountains or idled our way through the town of Graz, until I had to return for roll-call. Most of the younger comrades had a girlfriend, not only to flirt with, but more importantly, to provide an extra ‘dessert’ for our hunger.
Sometimes an ensemble or two came from Vienna to entertain the troops. There were colourful improvised cabarets, and piano concerts with music from Mozart and Haydn, which were boring for us young soldiers. But the officers and non-commissioned officers took it in their stride, in order to flirt with the female artists, late into the night, for which they had to pay.
To believe that our time in Tobelbad was a sanatorium cure for body and soul would be wrong. It was a ‘cure’, in so far as our surroundings were in complete contrast to that of the front. Our quarters were in the large, impressive, detached villas, which the ‘cure-guests’ rented in peace time. But we had to work. We were kept in trim with gentle exercises, body-building, movement and sport. Then we had to go to school, where combat training would have been superfluous for us, and which we were spared. But we were given theory in terrain practice, map reading and also world politics. I must not forget the thorough cleaning of our quarters! I also remember Tobelbad for a very big and unexpected surprise. My brother Evert suddenly appeared, he too having been wounded in Russia. He had also been posted to this rehabilitation unit, and for the very first time we both belonged to the same company.
He was wounded again a year later, in north-west Kharkov, in very hard defensive action with the Wiking Division. His company commander sent the news to our parents, ending the letter with “in close affinity”. Field Administration Post Code 33576. Dated 08.09.1943 (in the field).
Dear Mr and Mrs Verton,
The Company wish to inform you, that your son Evert has been slightly wounded. On 6 September 1943, in an enemy attack, he was wounded from shell splinters in his neck and thigh. After treatment from the unit’s doctor, he will be transferred into a field hospital from where he can write to you himself.
Greetings in close affinity,
Only today did I notice that the usual Heil Hitler is missing in this letter. Even the German Red Cross, in their letter of condolence to Robby’s parents informing them of his death, do not forget this formal address. With this comment I wish to point out that those of the Waffen SS soldiers fighting on the front were not the “Upstanding stalwarts of the Party” as they are deliberately depicted today.
It was also in Tobelbad that I had to present myself before the whole company. There my company commander presented me with a medal for the ‘offensive in the East’ in the winter of 1941/42. All of those from the Eastern Front received one, those who fought in the period from 15 November 1941 to 15 April 1942. The medal had a striped band in red, white and black, red for blood, white for snow and black for death, the death of many of our fallen comrades. Perhaps it can be described as ‘grim humour’, but thereafter we from the Eastern Front, referred to this medal as the ‘frozen meat medal’.
CHAPTER 13
A New Apprenticeship
The longer the war continued, the more resolute and brutal it became. It was clear that success or defeat depended not on how good the soldiers were, but how well their commanders guided them. What was even more important, was the worth of their weapons with which they worked. The modern war therefore demanded perfection from one another and with one another. Not only that, but a variety of highly developed weapons had to be mastered. Although every man was needed on the front, every unit was ordered to send chosen men for special courses, to bring them up-to-date with new military techniques.