Hauptmann Klaus von Bismarck, a battalion adjutant in Infantry Regiment 4, remembers he was shocked on receiving the Commissar Order. Communist Party officials, namely political commissars, captured serving with the Red Army, were to be shot.
‘I rebelled against it and said, “No. I will not follow such an order.” Numerous friends decided to support my view and that was what I reported to my CO. He simply received the report with a grim expression. He seemed a very decent sort to us.’
Infantry Regiment 4, waiting in its assembly area as part of the invasion force, was, as Bismarck described, ‘a conservative regiment, still for the most part distinguishable as part of the 100,000- man army of the Weimar period’.(13) Hauptmann Alexander Stahlberg of the 12th Panzer Division heard about the Commissar Order from his cousin, Henning von Tresckow, a staff officer in HQ Army Group Centre. ‘That would be murder!’ was his assessment. His cousin concurred:
‘The order is just that and for that reason we are not allowed to give it to the troops in writing, but you will receive it by word of mouth before the attack begins and will still have to pass it on by word of mouth to the companies.’
Appalled, Stahlberg asked from whom the order came. ‘From the man to whom you gave your oath [Adolf Hitler]. As I did,’ responded his cousin ‘with a penetrating look’. Oberstleutnant Heinrich Becker, his commanding officer, formally briefed the Commissar Order to his officers and was met by a ‘deathly silence’. Before dismissing them, Becker warned:
‘There is reason to remind you of The Hague Convention on Land Warfare. I am now speaking of the treatment of prisoners and wounded. Anyone who abuses prisoners and wounded I shall have court-martialled. Do you understand me, gentlemen?’(14)
They did. Von Bismarck in Infantry Regiment 4 had determined not to shoot commissars because as a soldier and Christian he could not see why Wehrmacht people should despatch others simply because they possessed an alternative view of the world. They were all officers and took their own individual rather than collective decision on how they intended to conduct themselves during the coming campaign.
There were others with an equally robust alternative view. Unteroffizier Wilhelm Prüller with Army Group South confided to his diary on 22 June, following the announcement of the impending invasion:
‘The fight between communism, which is rotting so many peoples, and National Socialism was bound to come. And if we can win now, it’s better than doing it later.’
Anti-Semitism was never far beneath the outwardly decent demeanour of the majority. He noticed the Jews in Tschenstochov and other large towns ‘are herded together’, and that every man and woman is obliged to wear a white arm-band with a blue star of Zion on it. ‘That’s the way it should be in the whole world!’ he confided. There was scant sympathy shown by the majority of German soldiers for the plight of the Polish population in the occupation zone. ‘The people in general,’ Prüller observed, ‘are in a very depressed state.’ They walked with heads down. Huge queues formed everywhere for food. ‘The Poles won’t have a very rosy time of it!’(15) he commented. Nor indeed would the Russians.
‘Order and Duty’ and the Führer
‘Order and Duty’ were vital prerequisites demanded of the German soldier. He was familiar with them, because they were established Germanic qualities. The Nazi state harnessed Prussian virtues to its own ends. It was not a question of unthinking, unconditional obedience. They involved self-discipline and self-mastery: willingness to accept the consequences before God and man of one’s own actions, whatever the cost. It was a philosophy that could be, and was, cynically exploited. It started at youth. Henry Metelmann, training as a recruit when the Russian campaign began, commented:
‘Even though my father hated everything connected with the Nazis, I liked it in the Hitler Youth. I thought the uniform was smashing, the dark brown, the black, the swastika and all the shiny leather.’
Roland Kiemig, as a 14-year-old Hitler Youth, reflected, ‘everywhere there was a certain regimentation. You didn’t just walk around uselessly, you marched.’ All this had a certain purpose. Metelmann’s view was that training in the Hitler Youth ‘meant the army was able to train us more speedily’. Therefore, ‘when we were finally let loose on the Panzers, we knew what it was all about.’(1) Kiemig’s basic training on entering the army subjected him to a rigorous regime that clouded his perception of values. They were replaced with those the army wished him to retain.
‘They kept us on the run, they harassed us, made us run, made us lie down, drove us and tormented us. And we didn’t realise at the time that the purpose was to break us, to make us lose our will so we’d follow orders without asking, “Is this right or wrong?”’(2)
There was rarely resistance to such a process. Götz Hrt-Reger, a Panzer soldier, explained it was ‘totally normal training in how to be a social being’. They experienced the shock impact any soldier undergoes in the transition from a relatively sheltered civilian life to the rigours of basic military training. ‘Of course,’ remarked Hrt-Reger, ‘if anybody – let’s say – misbehaved, there would naturally be consequences.’(3) German recruits ran round in circles, frog-jumped, hopped up and down, drilled with full equipment, ran – threw themselves down – got up, and were made to repeat the process. ‘Whenever I see a man in uniform now,’ recalls Panzer soldier Hans Becker,(4) ‘I picture him lying on his face waiting for permission to take his nose out of the mud.’ The aim was to wear the recruit down until he responded automatically with no resistance. It worked. Kiemig realised that:
‘This drill – Ach! inhuman at times – was designed to break our pride, to make those young soldiers as malleable as possible so that they would follow any order later on.’(5)
The decision to invade Russia was not likely, therefore, to generate anything more than superficial discussion, as also their personal moral conduct in that campaign. Leutnant Hubert Becker explained:
‘We didn’t understand the Russian campaign from the beginning, nobody did. But it was an order, and orders must be followed to the best of my ability as a soldier. I am an instrument of the State and I must do my duty.’
Discipline was ingrained. The corruption of values implicit upon acceptance of the Commissar Order was not a subject open for discussion. Many soldiers would agree with Hubert Becker’s opinion voiced after the war. They knew of no alternative.
‘We never felt that the soldier was being misused. We felt as German soldiers, we were serving our country, defending our country, no matter where. Nobody wanted such an action, nobody wanted a campaign, because we knew from our parents and the descriptions of World War 1 what it would entail. They used to say, “If this happens again, it will be fatal.” Then one day I was told I had to march. And opposition to this? That didn’t happen!’(6)
Faith in the Führer motivated German soldiers poised to invade Russia. The oath of the soldier ‘Ich schwöre…’ was made to Adolf Hitler first, then God and the Fatherland. Henry Metelmann recalled after swearing the oath, ‘we had become real soldiers in every conceivable sense.’ Metelmann’s background and experience was representative of millions of German soldiers waiting on the ‘Barbarossa’ start-line. ‘We were brought up to love our Führer, who was to me like a second God, and when we were told about his great love for us, the German nation, I was often close to tears,’ he wrote. Disillusionment would follow, but in 1941 Hitler was at the height of his powers. Idealism and gratitude for seemingly positive achievements sustained popularity despite setbacks to come. Metelmann recalled with some affection what he felt the Nazis had delivered: