Copyright (c) 1997 - Ingrid A. Rimland
"The Soviets were expecting us. But going up the hill our soldiers hugged the earth as they had been trained, and we had relatively few losses. Once I had given the order to go forward, there was little else for me to do but to always remain in the forefront. The noise of the battle was deafening: German and Russian tanks and anti-tank guns were firing, hand grenades were exploding, and everyone one could hear the bursts of small arms fire.
From the top of the crest I could see a wide valley in front of us. I presume that it was the Danube River Valley. Just about when we had reached the flat expanse, the soldier manning our MG 42 motioned to me that he was going to be out of ammunition shortly.
A few hundred yards behind me, almost still on top of the hill, I saw our "MG Schuetze 3," the soldier who had the extra case of ammunition needed, lying in a shell crater. He didn't move. Since no one else was around, I had no choice but to run back, shells all around exploding, to where he was and get the ammo.
At first I couldn't see whether the soldier, one of the 1928 replenishments, was dead or alive, but when I came closer, I noticed that he was unhurt but hugging the wet earth in fright, crying.
I crawled to him and yelled, begged, cajoled him to get moving, telling him that this spot was the very worst one in which to remain.
Suddenly he grabbed the ammunition box and took off like a scared rabbit. He also did exactly what one should never do in such a situation: he ran straight downhill, without taking cover, without the ubiquitous short spurts of running hither and dither that are the life saver of a good infantry man. As expected, the Russians concentrated their fire on him from the distance, and it didn't take long until the boy collapsed after being hit.
I ran to him but saw that, under the circumstances, he was as good as dead. His entire stomach had been torn open from side to side, probably from a large piece of shrapnel. I had only one Verbandspaeckchen (first aid kit) with me. That wouldn't even have covered a fraction of the wound I saw. There was nothing I could do for him except tell him that we would get him to the first aid station soon.
As I took the ammo box and again made my way downhill, I could hear him cry for his mother. There was no doubt in my mind that he would soon die . . . It bears remembering that I had still not reached my 18th birthday."
Two boys in the last days of the war. One dead. One alive, now an old man,
imprisoned recently in Germany for writing in the Politically Incorrect
Mode.
My young American friend, Peter, wrote the following after he came back
from Germany. Here is the voice of the young Unknown Soldier he heard:
"It wasn't supposed to happen this way. It wasn't supposed to be brother against brother.
When I looked East, I saw the darkest evil ever known to man. I saw the ice-cold stare of the beast, the Red bear. This beast destroyed everything in its path, leaving only a rootless, cultureless and imprisoned society behind.
I gave my life to defend my people against this beast. I knew it had to be stopped, for if it was not stopped, my people would be imprisoned for the next hundred years, or until they were no more.
When I looked West, I saw the root of mankind's eternal evil. I saw the purest form of Capitalist greed this world has ever seen. I saw lands controlled by men of Gold. These men ruled their people by controlling them through their greed. When these men of Gold turned my brothers against me, I knew that it was too late.
Now the beast was granted a license to enslave anything and everything it came across. Was this democracy?
Once the fury of the Red beast was unleashed upon Europe, nothing could contain it. Even though I knew I would die, I marched on. I marched East, for loyalty was my honor. It meant everything to me.
The ground would remain fertile for many years to come, as it was soaked with the blood of millions of innocent civilians. Who remembers these millions of innocent people who died? Not even the history books, for they would never be classified as the victims. That classification would be reserved for my enemy.
After the Red beast and the men of Gold destroyed my people, their way of life and everything they held dear, the sun set on my land for the next hundred years. My people were divided with a wall, they were imprisoned, they were starved, they were brainwashed. The pain and misery were to be felt long after my life was taken from me.
I shed my blood for a cause that I believed with all my heart to be true and honorable. I gave everything I had to protect the land that gave birth to me, my father, and to his father. I gave my life.
This war I fought in was a war of brother against brother. The men of Gold won this war by convincing my brothers to hate me, and hate me they did.
They hated me with all their hearts, and they didn't even know why. My enemies did not have to sacrifice any of their own blood. They were much too clever for that, for they had my own brothers to fight for them.
I remember the millions of innocent people who died in this horrible war. These were people who had every right to live as you do today. These were ordinary people with families they loved.
My enemies poured fire from the sky to kill these innocent people. They never really had a chance, and my enemies knew this, but they did not care, as they would be the ones who would write history.
I remember the mothers who watched in horror as everything they loved was taken away from them. Their men were sent off to die. Their centuries old cities were burned to the ground. Their children were brainwashed to hate themselves.
My land was raped. My women were raped. My children are being raped today. And all this for what? The war was just beginning for my people.
I am glad I died for my people, rather than to have lived with betrayal in my heart."Thought for the Day:
"When I want to understand what is happening today or try to decide what will happen tomorrow, I look back."
(Oliver Wendell Holmes, Jr.)