Mail Correspondence with Soldiers at War (“Feldpostbriefe”): Letter of German soldier Hans-Joachim Breitenbach from Russia, 7 October 1941 (Published on 02/03/2024)
Feldpostbriefe and their significance today
When researching Julius Erasmus, one inevitably comes into contact with letter correspondence between soldiers at war and their families from the time of the Second World War, such correspondence being called “Feldpostbriefe” in German. Be it messages about the death of a soldier, written by his superior to his relatives, which were later sent to Mr Erasmus as a hint for a grave search, or other correspondence between soldiers at war and their families at home. Since then, I have also been dealing more closely with field post letters from that time.
Feldpostbriefe are valuable contemporary documents that unfold their timeless message, especially in times like the present, and convey a vivid impression of what war means to all involved. They are a valuable tool to ward off the very beginnings of a renewed striving for war and perhaps to help prevent history from repeating itself once again and with yet more gruesome consequences for mankind. At present, war, weapons and the killing of people on a large scale are once again being drummed up forcefully, although for decades one could have had the vague hope that mankind had finally learned its lesson to some extent from the painful experiences of two world wars in particular. Unfortunately, this does not seem to be the case once again.
With this in mind, appropriate letters or letter excerpts from various sources will be published here from time to time in the section “Mail Correspondence with Soldiers at War (Feldpostbriefe)” as a reminder of what war means to man and mankind. To provide food for thought and in the unshakable hope that this may make a difference.
Feldpostbrief from Wehrmacht Lieutenant Hans-Joachim Breitenbach dated 7 October 1941 to his father
(source: Volksbund Deutsche Kriegsgräberfürsorge, Letzte Lebenszeichen – Briefe aus dem Krieg, p. 34 ff. (translation from German language)):
“Dear Dad!
I was delighted with the ‘box of wonders’ – as it was called by my soldiers. It was like Christmas for me when I unwrapped all the beautiful things; each one a greeting from home; each one was looked at closely, stroked and unwrapped with a big hello. The fur caused a particular stir, of course. Some took it as a bad omen, others as a good one when they said that we would definitely not be staying here over winter if we were already preparing for it so much. But I say: better safe than sorry; nothing can shake me now. Most of the sweets have already found their destination; only the plum jam is still in the box, as are the unborn puddings. All this will only go the way of all delicacies when we are out of here again with our bones intact. – But first I want to tell you how we got on last month. So, here’s the monthly report for September:
I was in Tur with my platoon until 5 September, where I secured the railroad bridge over the Tigoda as part of the company. I myself lay with my platoon and a gun crew in a Russian wooden house; I lived there happily and contentedly, only occasionally tormented by fleas. One morning, however, we woke up by chance and discovered that the hut above us was ablaze – probably arson – in other words, sabotage! Just as we were going to bed, we threw ourselves out of the window and had to abandon all our belongings to the fire. I was lucky in that I had checked the posts shortly beforehand and was still fully dressed, so I wasn’t – like many others – standing in the cool of the morning with just a shirt and trousers and no boots or socks. All my equipment, tracksuit, swimming and sports shorts, field blouse, handkerchiefs, underwear, stockings and thousands of other things were burnt in the process. That same day I was ordered to set up a standing reconnaissance party with a Pak [anti-tank gun] and 2 MG [machine guns] at the mouth of the Tigoda. Since I knew the area from a previous reconnaissance party – I had taken two prisoners then – I decided to position my party there and prevent the Russians from trying to cross. Over the next few days we also had some great experiences there, because the Russians crossed over about 2 km further south of us, but we inflicted unheard-of losses on them. In any case, it became so wild that even the division was in great excitement. Now the corner there is officially called ‘Breitenbach-Eck’ according to divisional orders. It was a devil of a place, in the middle of the forest at the mouth of a river; the enemy could be expected from all sides, constant machine gun and grenade launcher fire and the nearest German soldier was 6 km away!
However, I was soon pulled out again and, with my platoon, placed under the command of the Leyser Regiment, into whose section the Russians had broken through with tanks. Our Kradschützen were supposed to knock them out again after a strong, prepared Stuka attack [dive bomber attack]. And we were always firmly on board. So I drove right behind the charging infantry with my three guns to give them armor protection. The front line was advanced a little north of the Ssalizy-Ostashkino railroad, where my guns also took up positions in the middle of the front line – against all regulations; but I had no field of fire further back. –
As we received a very scary artillery barrage, we dug ourselves in. I spent the whole night building a shelter with my platoon leader and my runner: 2 m long, 1 m wide and 60 cm deep in the ground – we couldn’t get any deeper because of the hard clay soil – with beams and earth on top. We had to crawl into this hole backwards, three of us (!), and were not to leave it for 36 hours. In the early morning, our battalion section was hit by a barrage that, according to World War II soldiers, could not have been worse on the Somme in 1916. According to conservative estimates, 20,000 shells were fired at our positions from 15 Russian batteries and numerous railroad and long-range guns. We didn’t give a penny for our lives anymore. And if we were fed up back then, then nobody can blame us. 2 heavy shells (15 cm) fell within a radius of 3 m, 3 more within 5 m and countless others around us. Now you have to imagine: in such a cold hole, nothing to eat, no blanket, no cigarette, no place to move. So we lay in that hole for a day, a night and another day, just waiting for the moment when a direct hit would have turned us all into salami. – Many cover holes also had a direct hit, including that of the driver of my 2nd gun, an old lance corporal, engaged, Liegnitzer. Miraculously, nothing else happened in my platoon. We only realized that the lance corporal had been killed at the end of the cannonade, as we couldn’t even take our noses out of the holes the whole time. The infantrymen were pretty well cleaned up by the fire, though. The wounded had to stay outside because no mice were allowed to come near us; there was already mortar and machine-gun fire. – Well, we were glad when the dance from hell was over.
I’ve been in this section since September 9th. But now it’s a bit quieter, even though we often get all sorts of things here; in the first few days there were still around 1,000 – 1,500 shots a day. Almost every square meter here has been ploughed up. It’s impossible to move around outside during the day. Every day, friend Hein takes his toll. It’s terrible to have to lie here and be shot down like this. – The food, ammunition and mail only come forward at night; the food is usually sour, at any rate always cold; often only the bottom of the canteens is covered; the rest is tipped out due to the constant lying down in the fire. Then it’s time to go hungry again. We are all pretty exhausted.
I was at the front for 17 days before I was replaced for a few days. But nobody can imagine what it means to be at the front for 17 days in this hell! No hot food for 17 days – if food came to the front at all –, 17 days of almost no sleep, 17 days of freezing cold, lots of rain, damp clothes, wet feet, no blankets, 17 days of not washing, not shaving, always thirsty – some drank the dirty clay water that collected in the holes – and constant artillery, aerial bombs, grenade launchers, tanks, heavy machine guns, snipers; fire from the front, from the left, from the right, from half right behind and above! – You have to have nerves of steel! – One day the Russians shot us out of a wooden bunker with a heavy battery. There were several direct hits on our bunker and others nearby. One of my gun crews was killed. There were many dead and wounded with the most horrible wounds and also, what I saw here for the first time, nervous breakdowns of all degrees of severity to the point of idiocy. My platoon leader, an old sergeant major, also suffered such a severe nervous shock that he had to be airlifted to Germany. One of the gun operators was buried for four hours without being helped. – The young soldiers, who had just arrived from home as replacements, were so exhausted that they cried and screamed. I had to bring them back to the guns one by one. They literally clung to me and didn’t want to leave; as if it was safer with me. And you’re still supposed to hold your nerve.
On 13 September we made an attack on Ssalizy, which had already cost us such enormous losses. During the attack, the company commander, a Knight’s Cross bearer, collapsed. I then took over the company for a short time. But we were thrown back again by the Russians in the counterattack with tanks. The company was already too weak: 2 officers, 4 privates, 35 men [officers, NCOs]! The third platoon was only 9 men strong! It was similar with the other companies! During the counterattack, the enemy tanks shot up one of my guns with their 10.5 cm (!) cannons, while our shells bounced off the armor plates like peas. There were also a few casualties. But we still managed to finish off one tank. I also shot down a 52-to and two 32-to tanks in this place. For those days I submitted 1 EK I and 10 EK II [Iron Cross 1st Class and Iron Cross 2nd Class] for my platoon, all of which were approved.
Now I’m sitting up here again after a few days of rest (i.e. strenuous work) and feel like a cave dweller; because day and night a kerosene lamp burns in our shelters – we call these rickety things ‘bunkers’. It’s now 4 o’clock in the morning, lousy cold because we have no stoves; and the Russians are making themselves felt outside. We’re 100 – 50 meters from each other in some places. – If I have to go out right now to release yourself, you don’t know if those dogs haven’t recognized you and will throw a few things over. They even shoot at individual people with grenade launchers. Sometimes all it takes is for someone to cough or speak loudly. It’s very scary; almost always head shots!
Your crate arrived at our AK [artillery command] in a few days, from where I received the message to pick it up there. I then had it picked up by the workshop company, where I am more or less at home as a former adjutant, and brought it from there to our rest quarters. The sweets were eaten straight away, especially with so many longing glances from my soldiers looking at the delicacies. And everyone unanimously agreed that ‘Mummy Breitenbach’ does know her job as a housewife. Everyone is already waiting for the next box. They all want to help carry it if it’s too heavy! – I’ll cook the pudding with whipped cream and raisins when I’m next relieved. Hopefully I’ll get out of this place with my platoon, because the division is already in a new section of the front; only the tank destroyers are still here. This division here is an East Prussian one, the 21st I. D. [Infantry Division] I haven’t met anyone I know yet.
I wasn’t able to see Gert either, as we had just been thrown into this section of the front when I received the message that he was near me. Well, he wouldn’t have paid any attention to me after he’d been presented with the Knight’s Cross, because he loves to show off. – But it’s all a matter of luck. – If I had more powerful cannons, I wouldn’t have to tear my hair out when all the shells bounce off the 52-tonners like marbles. – There are no Knight’s Crosses here on our section of the front; only splinters in the back; and our motto is: We want to go home, we’ve had enough (home to the Reich). – The rest is up to the lice, fleas and bugs, which even survive the ordeals of the delousing center! Or are they new ones again? I’m ready for delousing again, but I won’t be relieved until 12/10/ at the earliest. – So be patient and keep looking! I found 12 lice in my shirt again today; unfortunately the fleas can’t be caught.
But our homeland doesn’t hear about all our hardships, because no propaganda people show up here. – And we rarely write, because writing here means sacrificing your sleep. – And then we don’t want to complain. – But this time we can’t report anything funny either, because we haven’t laughed for four weeks.
If I were still with the division now – without longing to go back there – I would have been in Berlin for 8 days, because my successor flew there by airplane.
So, dear father, I will close now; it is now 5 o’clock and unbearably cold. – Your underwear is the only one I have, apart from the dirty set I wore from the time of the fire or a few days before until recently. I can no longer tell what color the shirt was!
If you should send me a larger package again, perhaps you can get a gasoline stove so that we can warm up our cold lunch when we get to the front. We can’t light an open fire. And cake and jam!
Many, many thanks for the box of wonders; best wishes and hopefully a healthy reunion at Christmas!
Yours
Hans-Jochen”
Hans-Joachim Breitenbach, born on 5 November 1919 in Berlin-Wilmersdorf, was killed as a Lieutenant in Panzerjägerabteilung 18 (“Tank Destroyer Section 18”) on 13 January 1942 near Staraja Russa/Russia.
(Head picture: German Military Cemetery Ysselsteyn/Netherlands,
May 2023)
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