Mail Correspondence with Soldiers at War (“Feldpostbriefe”): Poem by an 18-year-old German soldier during World War II (Published on 02/01/2023)
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.
Poem by German soldier Reinhard Reschop, 18 years old
(Source: v. Bebenburg, Ein Vermächtnis – Briefe und Gedichte gefallener Soldaten des Zweiten Weltkrieges [1955], p. 40 f.):
Waldheimat
„Die Heimat ist der schönste Wald:
Wo rings die Wipfel beben,
durch Bäume jung und alt
die herben Winde wehen;
wo tiefes, grünes Moos
verträumt ins Dasein blickt;
wo weit im dichten Schoß
Gehölz in sich verstrickt;
wo schlanke Tannen stehen,
voll Stolz emporgereckt;
wo sich im Winde drehen
die Gräser, hochgereckt.
Die Heimat ist der Wald,
wo weit die Bäume rauschen.
Wo Stürme voll Gewalt
durchs leichte Buschwerk tauschen.
Wo Riesen trotzig stolz
den Stürmen widerstehen,
muß morsches, dürres Holz
im Kampf zugrunde gehn.
Wo leicht am Boden froh
ein kleines Bächlein rinnt,
wo träumend irgendwo
ein Mensch im Waldlicht sinnt.
Die Heimat ist der Wald,
der Seele Heimatstatt,
wo zierliche Gestalt
die Lebenszuflucht hat.
Wo Du nach hartem Los
zu neuem Sein erhebst,
was Du auf weichem Moos
an neuer Kraft erlebst,
Wo Du den Sinn erkennst
der göttlichen Natur,
wo Du das Sein erkennst,
das webt in der Natur.
Die Heimat ist der Wald!
Siehst Du den goldnen Schein,
der leuchtend überstrahlt
den Wipfel und den Hain?
Die Sonne segnet reich,
bevor sie schlafen geht,
das weite, grüne Reich,
das leis der Wind umweht.
Nun sieh! Der Glanz vergeht.
Der Tag ist sanft verhallt.
In tiefem Dämmern steht
die Heimat, unser Wald!“
Grenadier Reinhard Reschop, born on 24 August 1925 in Berlin-Steglitz, committed suicide on 23 September 1943 in Pogorzelce/Poland.
(Head picture: Ehrenfriedhof Heidelberg, April 2022)
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