Hans Boche My Story (7)
When I got to Stuttgart Mother and Father were glad to see me of course, but I sensed all was not well. It could not be the War, which had been totally successful, and Bernard and I were safe. On the first evening at home I learnt that the problem was with Otto. My sister Inge's husband. My Father told me all about it, and my Mother looked close to tears as he explained what was disturbing them. Otto had been called up into the Forces but would not go, despite his pre-war 'commando' talk. He had appealed to various tribunals and cronies and was said to have been exempted. One way and another he was still not in the services. His building firm had not yet completed the Flak tower contract, but Otto had his men building a new house for him and Inge, more like a mansion, on the outskirts of Stuttgart. Everybody thought that the money and materials which should have been going into the City's defence was going to his new house and my Mother and Father were sometimes questioned in the street about it, as if they were at fault. Otto had acquired the land for his house from a Jewish family who had left the area. I also heard that he had been active in troubles in Stuttgart, when violence occurred in the streets, and some old established businesses had been destroyed by a mob, with apparently little interference from the Police. Liebermanns fur shop had gone. The department store in which I had many a cream cake, 'Solomons', was closed, empty and badly knocked about. My parents had not got much to say about this phenomenon but I suspected that they preferred to be in ignorance of it. Hild was a bit more forthcoming, telling me that the trouble had been mainly to do with Jewish people, who had been in Stuttgart for many years, but were now leaving as Hitler did not approve of them. She told me that Otto was very active in the 'troubles'. Otto and Inge came to visit one evening and they had yet another new car, another Mercedes, but larger. Inge was quiet, but Otto was not. He wanted to know all about the war. He was very interested in every facet of it, except taking part. I asked him straight out why he had not been drafted into the services yet, and he waffled about defence work, and he would go later, and the Town Council would not let him go as they were negotiating a contract for a housing estate, and so on. It cut no ice with me, and I declined his offer of dinner out for us all in the best restaurant in Stuttgart. My parents did not want to go with him either, and the evening ended in a cold atmosphere. I heard that he had received white feathers through the post, and even in the street, from loyal Germans. This is our way of showing up a coward and I'm glad they did it. I intended having no more to do with him, a pity for Inge, but it could not be helped. Apart from this family problem my stay in Stuttgart was very nice, but after action it all seemed a bit dull. None of my school friends were there, nor Hitler Youth colleagues, as they were all in our armed services. While I was on leave at home, I think it was September 1940, the War against Great Britain fizzled out. It seemed to me that the air war had ended in stalemate. We were still bombing of course, and this would eventually succeed, but it was taking a bit longer that we thought. There may be no other course than to invade, and I think The Fuhrer was making plans for this eventuality. Other developments were that Italy had joined us in a military alliance to sort out the Mediterranean part of Europe. They had already attacked Abyssinia, wherever that was and were intent on taking over Greece. I had no high opinion of Italians but this alliance would give us control of the Meditteranean Sea in due course, and the Suez Canal. The Italians had a leader which they all supported in the same way we did Hitler, but their man, Mussolini, was not to be compared with 'The Fuhrer' The Eastern front was quiet. The non-aggression pact with Stalin was secure. We were using the Polish population as a workforce for our industries. I believe they were paid well. Some Poles came to Germany to work as many of our own workers were in the Forces. (Except Otto!) The Western front, without a land campaign being possible, was progressing well with the two powerful weapons we could bring to bear. The bombing and our submarines, which were sinking nearly all the supply ships of the British. Fortunately the Americans were more isolationist than ever. They had always disapproved of, and envied, the British Colonies at the same time. Probably they resented Canada more than anything. I bet the Yanks would have liked to have had all of the North American continent, they should just take it now, they are plenty strong enough and we are keeping the British busy. Anyway the population of America had plenty of proper Aryans living there. In America our countrymen had formed the German American Friendship Bund, which counteracted the Jewish pressure for restoration of their undue influence in Germany. I think the Americans had started to supply equipment to Britain but though they could make a great deal it was not likely to be very good. This was the situation then when I took leave of my parents and sat in the train to Berlin with my Iron Cross round my neck. I was very excited about seeing Lotte again. She was waiting at Templehof station for me and flung her arms about my neck. She was as eager to see me as I was her. We went to her flat and after being properly re-united in bed, we talked. The hospital was very quiet now and life was normal in Berlin. Lotte had been promoted to a position of authority in her department and now had a team of twelve nurses under her command and two wards. She was a very capable woman and I was not surprised at her advancement. She was more incisive than I, and also studied in all her spare time. She did not study so much while I was there with her. I met some of her friends, all of whom were nurses at the hospital and they all had boyfriends in the Services, some of whom were also on leave. We formed a group of up to fourteen people in the Cafes in the evenings and it was a time of great optimism and joy. Good conversation and plenty of food and drink (Rationing in Britain!) would end late at night with all going their separate ways and Lotte and I arm in arm would close the door and enter our private world of love. One of the servicemen in the group was a submariner. He had undertaken many patrols in the Atlantic and his U-boat had sunk much shipping, notably two large tankers of fuel. How important that was, without fuel all tanks and planes are just so much inert metal. This sailor operated the hydroplanes in the submarine. He was in fact the driver, in the same way I was of the tank. There was also another sailor from a destroyer squadron stationed in Northern Holland. He explained that German Destroyers were the equivalent of the Cruisers in other navies. He had not seen action but it was obvious they were a very powerful force. There was also a Luftwaffe man. He was in the ground crew and was an airframe fitter. The others perhaps thought less of him because he was not in a directly combatant role. I made much of him though, as I well knew that all of our war machinery depended on men like him. One nurse had an officer as her boyfriend, he was a Hauptmann (Captain) in the infantry. He was under orders to go to Italy after his leave. He had joined the army as an ordinary infantryman and was soon selected for Officer Training. Despite the fact that he was an officer, I liked him. Interestingly in civilian life he had not been upper or middle class. Quite the opposite, he had been a shoemaker. Late in the evening, sometimes we all crowded into Lotte's flat and talked about our vision of post-war Germany. That we would be prosperous and would lead Europe forward to a magnificent future, was in no doubt. The new Germany would be at least as strong as America or Russia, though we regarded the latter as being very backward, and likely to remain so while the dead hand of Communism stifled it. We also discussed the question of continuity after Hitler, as he could not last for ever. We hoped that the National Socialist Party would keep on track, and no doubt natural successors for our present leaders would emerge. The week in Berlin passed too quickly and I had to be back in St Omer for the usual boring routine the next day. Lotte and I spent that evening alone and we talked of plans for our future with marriage and children. They were plans only of course, all would have to wait until the war ended. Until Britain gave in their futile resistance. In St Omer the next day I signed in at the guard room and walked to my barracks. On the way I passed the workshops and looked in. Our Panzers were being repainted. The olive green was being sprayed over....the new colour was yellow! Chapter Seven The Desert. After I saw my tank being painted yellow, I knew we were going to Africa. Good. I'd never been there before and if I had the choice between the cold of Scandinavia and the Warmth of Africa, I like to be warm. The Army had certainly broadened my horizons. I had never left Germany before the war. In fact had seldom left Stuttgart. Now I had seen Poland and France and Belgium, and taken them over in the name of The Greater Germany. Why not Africa as well? I was summoned to the the Divisional Office and expected simply to be told we were bound for North Africa but there was a surprise in store. There were various top brass officers behind the desk. It didn't need this lot to tell me to put on my shorts and sun hat. Imagine my surprise when I was offered promotion to an Officer. Me. An Officer! And I still didn't like them very much. I was to be sent to Officer training at once if I agreed. Despite my previous antipathy to the breed (which these Officers knew) I had seen a change in our Army for the better, from old Prussian tradition to modern warfare. The Staff Officers, including Willi, who interviewed me said it was necessary that I agree for the benefit of Germany. I could not refuse under those circumstances and it was signed and sealed there and then. I immediately took my leave of my colleagues, and was very sorry to part from Fonk. Arbo had already been transferred in my absence and was now somewhere in Karelia. He wouldn't like the cold. I reported first to a Reception facility in Munchen Gladbach and was kitted out in a very smart Oberleutnant's uniform with the red flashes of a Officer under training. The flashes allowed NCO's to still treat you like dirt. I was also given a brand new Luger pistol which at the first opportunity I fired into a dirt bank at the side of the parade ground to get used to it. Good job I did try it, it made a hell of a bang. After initiation at Munchen Gladbach my squad of Officer material, reduced by three who were returned to the ranks after only two days, went to Officer School at Pantenkirchen. We spent Christmas 1940 at this place. We learnt the unenviable responsibility of being in charge of men. They could moan, we could not. They could make our life hell and we couldn't do much to them except lock them up away from danger, which is what some wanted anyway. I learnt to pass on apparently stupid orders from the higher echelons with feigned assurance. Fighting tactics were taught by two different officers, a Prussian Major who would have us drill and manoever as if it were the battle of Waterloo. The other trainer was a Berliner who favoured what were virtually guerilla tactics. All camouflage and stealth. His favourite analogy was that terriers can beat a bear. I hoped he wasn't alluding to the Russian bear. We all took from the training what suited our personal inclinations best, and were eventually passed on to Baden-Baden to pass out. So it came about in February 1941, at the tender age of 21, I became an Officer. Baden-Baden had more spit and polish than spa baths, and it had plenty of those. The mess was formal and riddled with traditional practices, and sword waving which personally left me cold. My red flashes could be taken down and I was now a fully fledged Oberleutnant in the Wehrmacht. The extra pay had been also a major incentive for me, as I thought Lotte might be pregnant and I would have to provide for a family. I may also be able to save a little to give us a good start when the war ended. I thought that when we had cleared up Egypt that would be the end of the war. There was no reason why Britain should monopolise the Suez Canal so we would take it, use it as a bargaining counter and settle Europe round a conference table. I had told my family about the promotion of course and they were delighted. Baden-Baden is quite close to Stuttgart and I was able to get home briefly on two occasions. There was no sign of Otto or Inge, and apart from telling me that he was still not in the services, my parents avoided the subject. I went into a few old places I knew in Stuttgart in my Officers uniform. There was a cafe where myself and some juvenile friends used to go, not a very valued customer then, but now I was not allowed to pay for anything. I called into the old bicycle shop where Fritz sometimes used to mend my bike for nothing. Embarassingly old Fritz embraced me now with tears in his eyes. I had no chance to go to Berlin to see Lotte as my posting followed immediate upon my passing-out parade. As I expected, against my name on the notice board was 'Afrika Corps.' Two other classmates were similarly posted and we three had one good evenings binge in genteel Baden-Baden before setting off. We were given even more kit in Freiburg the following day and, heavily laden, we set off by train. Our route was straight through Switzerland. There was never any problem transiting Switzerland. It is an odd country, full of sharpshooters, with exravagant shooting matches across their valleys. The sound of shots being fired was unnerving at first and made me reach for my Luger, but it was always the 'William Tells' practising. The Swiss had always seemed odd to me, technically excellent with their watches, and pre-historic with their cuckoo clocks. Why they were the headquarters of the Red Cross was also a mystery to me, they usually only did things for money. The Swiss I always thought were like the Scottish people in Great Britain, they could be found everywhere and were very 'canny' but were always very 'Swiss'. They also seemed to think they were superior to others though what they based this idea on heaven only knows. Perhaps they also thought they were superior to war, because they successfully kept out of it. We passed through Berne, went under the Alps and finished up in Turin in Italy. Here we were joined by other German soldiers of all ranks, all destined for North Africa. We were greeted effusively by Italians throughout the journey. It is a pity they hadn't been a bit more demonstrative at Sidi Barrani in the desert then we wouldn't have had to come to help them. Our briefing had told us that the Italians had 'run into difficulties' in Tunisia, Algeria and Egypt. In fact everywhere. The Italians had crossed the Med alright, and with the French influence muted and confused with the ambiguous status of the new Vichy State, Mussolini saw his opportunity to seize territory. The Arabs didn't count much, and the Italians swaggered across North Africa. At this point, part of the small force which the British kept in Egypt to guard the Suez Canal, which arrogantly they believed to be theirs, attacked the Italians and pushed them back. Our Fuhrer could see that damage to British interests would be very significant if we took the Suez Canal. Many men and materials from the Empire had to pass through it. If we stopped up the Suez as well as the North Atlantic, Britain would be finished. The 'Afrika Corps' was a very small army, as the original idea was that we would help the much larger Italian force to conclude the affair. As we shall see it didn't work out like that. We travelled through Italy by train from the industrial North, which was dirtier that I had supposed, to the South, which was poorer and more backward than I had thought. The train ran to time, which was Mussolini's great achievement. The only one I think. We came to Taranto, their great Naval Base in the instep of the foot of Italy, and were impressed with the flotilla of dashing destroyers and transports which were waiting for us, the German Navy contribution being relatively small. Only two transports in the fleet were German, of the Hamburg line. We kicked our heels as our equipment was loaded. All troops travelled on warships rather than the freighters. Probably because we were the most valuable cargo and the cruisers and destroyers were three times as fast as the lumbering smoky cargo ships. I was embarked on a cruiser, called I think, 'The Carlo Luciani', whoever he was. Skirting Sicily, it was only about three hundred miles by sea to Tripoli. I thought it would be quiet down here but I was wrong. We had an eventful passage. British planes, from Malta, attacked. They were Swordfish, looking very ancient and slow. Perhaps they were too slow for the Italians to hit. They splashed their torpedoes into the sea and banked away from the ships. I could clearly see the British fliers in their open cockpits with leather helmets. These pathetic old planes wouldn't stand a chance against the Luftwaffe but I admired them for their courage. All guns were fired at them except the main armament of our cruiser, with no effect. After much twisting and dodging a squadron of Savoia Machetti fighters arrived from a field in Sicily, which we could still see on the horizon. One of these Italian fighters immediately dived straight into the sea having swooped on a Swordfish and failed to pull up. I guessed it may be difficult to actually see the surface of the sea in a plane. Two Swordfish were shot down. One plopped onto the sea and floated and the crew were taken on board a minesweeper. The other was trailing smoke and hit the sea some way away. I don't know what happened to that crew. In our fleet a destroyer was hit by a torpedo and and crippled, the bows were blown clean off but it still floated and didn't sink so long as I could see it. One transport was also hit amidships by a torpedo. It slowed and settled and went down slowly. It was tragic to see the work of so many hours and skilled hands and material slide under the waves. It contained thirty Panzers, many trucks and goodness knows how much food and ammunition. What a waste war was. It was not one of the two German boats and I was at least glad of that, the five thousand tons of material on it were all made by Germans though. If I had been in a machine shop in the Ruhr, and sweated over shell cases or fuses or cap badges or whatever, and seen them go down to the bottom of the sea, I would have been hearbroken. Submarines were also suspected to be in the area and our Cruiser dashed about nervously for the whole trip. The Italian Savoia Machetti fighters attempted a fly past over the fleet when the remaining Swordfish had disappeared towards Malta. Their own ships started to shoot at them, fortunately with the same effect with which they shot at the British, that is, none. There appears to be a Naval tradition to fire on any plane which approaches your boat, regardless of whose side they are on. We crowded the docks in Tripoli and the ships were were unloaded during the night, under floodlights. This was my first experience of Arabia and Arabs. What a difference in cultures and standards divided only by a few hundred miles of sea. There were hundreds of listless Arabs in tarbooshes, they seemed to lack both enthusiasm and organisation, however the job got done in the end but I doubt if the quantities which got to us were the same as the cargo manifests. Food especially was pilfered, and having seen some Arab fare, I was not surprised. We were glad to get out of Tripoli and sort ourselves out at our camp in the desert. I was given a squadron of Panzers. Our squadrons were now only ten tanks, not twelve, due to the loss at sea of the freighter. I got to know my tank crews in the shakedown period, which I knew would be very brief due to the dire straights of the Italians. My men were very much a mixture. Some had seen action in Poland and France, old sweats. They disdained me as I had crossed the line from being one of 'them', to one of the 'others'. I understood this, I would have been exactly the same myself. I hadn't liked 'Willi' until we had been in action and he had showed his mettle. Some of my troops had only been in France and about half had never seen action at all. The keenest were the rookies. They were best at spit and polish but I knew who would be better in a fight. The old soldiers had already draped their tanks with sandbags and extra water and petrol containers purloined from somewhere.
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