Security had improved little by mid-July. Helmut K___(6) a 19-year-old Reichsarbeitsdienst driver employed in Russia immediately after the invasion, wrote to his parents about continuing resistance in Brest. Even as the battle at Minsk was concluded he wrote on 6 July that ‘the citadel was still held’ and pockets of resistance were still active. ‘Twice the Reds had hoisted a white flag, and every time a company of Waffen SS were sent in, the doors were slammed in their faces.’ Driving close to the citadel walls with another truck, Helmut narrowly missed being killed during a reprisal Stuka dive-bombing raid. The strike was only 300–400m away, and ‘if I am truly honest, I wet my pants a little,’ he confessed. On 11 July two German officers were shot in the streets of Brest. Helmut K___ wrote again the following day, complaining:
‘There are tunnels beneath the earth in a 3km stretch from the citadel to the barracks, inside which the Russians are still sitting. Our unit is in the barracks. The streets are often strewn with scattered nails. We have already patched up our tyres many times… our troops are already 300km ahead en route to Moscow’(7)
Even today, messages carved into concrete by bayonets in cellars and casemates throughout the old fortress of Brest-Litovsk are preserved. ‘Things are difficult, but we are not losing courage,’ reads one. Another proclaims: ‘We die confidently July 1941.’ ‘We die, but we defended ourselves. 20.7.41.’ is crudely scratched elsewhere.
Isolated shooting incidents carried on throughout July. Few people knew about these lonely deaths.(8)
Chapter 8
Smolensk
‘We wished that the Russians would make a stand – anything, a battle even, to relieve the monotony of this ceaseless, timeless tramping.’
The infantry
On 8 July 1941 the Fourth (Panzer) Army staff had established their headquarters at Borisov on the River Berezina. Problems lay ahead. It was vital, in order to avoid the catastrophic implications of the developing gap between Panzers and infantry formations, to hurry the foot soldiers forward. General Günther Blumentritt declared:
‘A vivid picture which remains of these weeks is the great clouds of yellow dust kicked up by the Russian columns attempting to retreat and by our infantry hastening in pursuit.’(1)
The Smolensk pocket offered the tantalising prize of effecting much of the destruction of the western group of Soviet Armies originally planned, as well as securing the vital ‘land bridge’ for the eventual advance on Moscow. At Borisov there were traces of Napoleon. A few kilometres north, almost 130 years before, Napoleon’s Grande Armée had been compelled to cross the frozen River Berezina during the winter of 1812, and suffered appalling casualties doing so. It was not an auspicious omen. General Blumentritt, the Fourth Army Chief of Staff, noticed, ‘when the water is clear the remains of the props driven into the river bed to support the bridges built by the French engineers are still visible’.(2) The German bridges had been built. They awaited the arrival of the infantry.
Further to the rear, Harald Henry, a 22-year-old foot soldier, was marching forward with an Army Group Centre infantry regiment ‘in scorching heat with rest stops whereby one slept like the dead’.(3) Leutnant Heinrich Haape, a doctor with Infantry Regiment 18, recalled the briefest of rests by night during early campaign days:
‘The hour and a half’s sleep had done more harm than good. It had not been easy to awaken the dog-tired men. Our bones were cold, muscles stiff and painful and our feet were swollen. We pulled on our field boots only with great difficulty.’(4)
German infantry equipment had altered little since the turn of the century. Each soldier still wore traditional calf-high jackboots and fought with a modified 1898 rifle. He carried in excess of 30kg of gear, on top of which might be added rations, reserve ammunition and components for machine guns and mortars. Harald Henry complained:
‘I don’t know exactly how heavy our equipment is, but in addition to all of it there was a thick woollen blanket, an ammunition box that could drive one crazy and that lamentable packet with the books in it I should have sent back.’(5)
Soldiers on the march quickly discarded extraneous items or left them in regimental transport. The pack, usually transported separately, would hold a blanket, stove, tent poles, rope, spare underwear and clothes, toiletries, a ‘fat’ box (for cooking) and personal effects. Standard marching equipment weights would be about 14kg. The leather harness would hold together pouches for 60 rifle rounds, a spade, gas mask (often discarded, but its carrier utilised to carry other effects), water bottle, bread basket containing some bread and meat or sausage, a small fat tin and bayonet. The helmet, weighing 1.5kg, was not worn marching, but would be attached by its chin strap to the harness equipment. The rifle, another 4kg weight, would be slung on or across the shoulder.
Every soldier carried an aluminium identity disc around his neck pressed into two halves, which were snapped off if he became a casualty. One half would go to the unit chaplain if the soldier were killed, or to the administrative unit. Small bread bags and tunic pockets bulged with all the other necessities and comforts each soldier felt he needed to carry. These items became fewer as march distances increased. ‘All the roads in this land are uphill,’ declared one veteran. ‘The countryside is flat, but all roads go up regardless of which horizon they are leading to.’ This phenomenon ‘represents little more than the earth curvature with its constantly disappointing “false crests”.’(6) A typical infantry regiment’s march routine would be to wake the soldiers at 02.45 hours in order to be on the march by 03.15, when it was becoming light. Morale so early in the morning, with the prospect of a further brutal day of forced marching, was rarely good. Harald Henry lamented:
‘We only had a little sleep. Once, when we finally managed to secure accommodation in a barn, our section [squad] was assigned to sentry duty, and we spent yet another night in a soaking meadow.’(7)
Sleep was a precious and often elusive commodity. Personal equipment was pulled on and all straps and accoutrements secured. Unnecessary clothing would be placed in packs and handed across to be ferried by the regiment’s logistic transport (the Trost). Some companies marched as many as 50km in one day. One veteran calculated a single step covered 60cm – ‘one took shorter or longer paces, but this was the average’ – so 50km meant an estimated 84,000 paces.(8)
Breakfast was a hasty affair, perhaps a cup of tea or ersatz coffee with bread, butter and some jam or a can of liver-sausage. After the order ‘prepare to move’, there was still time to crack and drink a raw egg. Companies would then begin to form up on the road in the half-light of dawn. At first, soldiers strode energetically along the route, with rifles properly slung as the sun slowly rose. Within an hour or two rifles and weapons were festooned haphazardly about the body. Fingers began to worry absent-mindedly at swinging helmet rims fastened to belts or dangling from rifles. Artillery Oberleutnant Siegfried Knappe said: