Thoughts on war: German Luftwaffenhelfer and Russian prisoners of war (Published on 12/09/2023)
In addition to letters from the war and immediate post-war period, literature sources from the time also provide a vivid impression of what war means for people and what a high price all soldiers and their families have to pay in war – mostly in complete contrast to those who have politically fomented and initiated it. It is of central importance to keep alive the memory of the times of war and its consequences in order to prevent the same mechanisms from being set in motion once again and history from repeating itself with ever more fatal consequences.
On 17/08/1952, standing at the graves of the dead buried in the military cemetery in Hürtgen, the then German Federal President Theodor Heuss formulated the importance of war commemoration in his speech at the opening of this cemetery as follows (translated from German language):
“They were human beings like us. But at these crosses we hear their voices: ‘Take care, you who are still in life, that peace may remain, peace among men, peace among nations.’”
To this end, under the title “Thoughts on War”, excerpts from literature describing war and its consequences for those involved will be reproduced here 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.
With the passing away of the last contemporary witnesses, the extent of the “total war” proclaimed by the political regime in Germany at the time for its population is increasingly fading from consciousness. It should be remembered that this war stopped at no one, at least outside the political caste. With its increasing duration, the German state obliged even women, children and the elderly to contribute to the war effort in different ways.
For instance, starting in February 1943, college students born between 1926 and 1928 were ordered to serve as so-called “Flakhelfer” (literally translated “anti-aircraft helpers”) in the air defense forces of the German Luftwaffe (“Luftwaffenhelfer”, literally translated ‘Airforce helpers’) and – to a much lesser extent – the German Navy (“Marinehelfer”, literally translated ‘Navy helpers’); from 1944, the same applied to middle school students and apprentices of these birth years. They were commanded to their service with their classes and, within classes, by year of birth. The legal basis for this obligation was the “Emergency Service Ordinance of the German Reich of 15 October 1938” (“Notdienstverordnung des Deutschen Reiches vom 15.10.1938”), according to which the German state could call up any resident of the territory of the Reich to perform any service upon reaching the age of 15. The Luftwaffenhelfer were to replace soldiers fit for frontline fighting, the latter then being withdrawn from anti-aircraft positions and ordered to the front. Although formally Luftwaffenhelfer were no soldiers, but officially assigned to the Hitler Youth (“HJ”), they mostly performed soldierly duties in the anti-aircraft positions. Also, they remained schoolchildren who had to continue to attend school lessons at their place of deployment, in addition to their military service. Between 1943 and 1945, according to different estimates, the basis of which is unknown, between 200,000 and more than 500,000 “flak helpers” are said to have been deployed; many of them did not survive.
There is a wealth of accounts of former Luftwaffenhelfer and Marinehelfer that give a vivid impression of the experiences and horrors to which these young people were subjected (cf. e.g. Nicolaisen, “Der Einsatz der Luftwaffen- und Marinehelfer im zweiten Weltkrieg” (1981) or Schmeling, “Vom Krieg ein Leben lang geprägt” (1997); for a first overview, the corresponding German Wikipedia article is worth reading [the English version not so much]).
With a view to how human beings treat, under wartime conditions, fellow human beings they have been told are “enemies”, an episode from an account by one such Luftwaffenhelfer is illuminating. It deals with the treatment of their “subordinates”, in this case Russian prisoners of war, by the Luftwaffenhelfer, who were on average 16 years old. The reporting former Luftwaffenhelfer also describes some of the state mechanisms by which the desired “image of the enemy” was conveyed to young people and the effects this had, looking back critically 40 years later.
In the German book „Feuer frei, Kinder! – Eine mißbrauchte Generation, Flakhelfer im Einsatz“ by Itschert/Reucher/Schuster/Stiff (1st ed., 1984), the following is said on p. 60 ff. (translation from German language, emphases added):
„In the aforementioned hierarchy, we young Luftwaffenhelfer were the second to last link, because after us were the Russian prisoners of war, who at that time were assigned to most of the anti-aircraft batteries in the homeland. Their duties consisted of keeping the battery area in order – like all other activities, of course, under the supervision of the non-commissioned officers and soldiers responsible for this – performing minor manual labor, relieving the kitchen staff of menial duties, and above all, as ammunition gunners, ensuring the supply of shells to the guns during combat operations. Our rations at this time of the war were still relatively good and also – tailored to us adolescents – quantitatively sufficient and, since from time to time a small cake or a pudding made from skim milk from the parental home enriched the personal menu, we could spare even a quarter of the normal allotment of Kommissbrot [a specific type of bread baked by the German army].
For our ‘Ivans’, as we called the [Russian] prisoners of war, such a piece of bread was a much sought-after possession. It brought gratitude and respect to the fortunate ‘unfortunate’ among his fellow prisoners, who were allowed to share in it, even if not equally. How little importance, when starving, man attaches to dignity and self-respect was made quite clear to us here at a young age, for we naturally demanded something in return for the bread we gave. Since it was not allowed to get involved with the prisoners outside of the service, there was also the attraction of the forbidden, when we secured the services of the respective ‘Ivan’ as a kind of remuneration in kind, who then secretly cleaned our shoes, darned our socks and also had to sweep the parlor. What must have been going on in the minds of these young people between the ages of 18 and about 30, peasants’ sons, workers, even some students? How did they cope with the degrading situation? How will they have reacted later, after the defeated had become victors, the humiliated had become humiliators, the starving had become satiated again?
For me, this complex of Russian prisoners of war in our battery is connected with an experience that influenced my attitude towards the war – even if at first only unconsciously and without consequences in action: My personal ‘Ivan’, a chubby, twenty-something peasant son from the Ukraine whom we called only ‘Timoshenko’ because of his resemblance to the Soviet general, was a primitive boy, good-natured, uncomplicated, almost embarrassingly submissive, acknowledging the ‘master’ in every German – and always hungry. When he finished his ‘services’ with me, he waited patiently for his bread ration, immediately ate his allotted portion with ravenous appetite, and hid the portion for his comrades in his grubby working suit. The guards – mostly veteran lance corporals – knew about these customs and turned a blind eye. But there were also some who took pleasure in taking the bread from the poor fellows and pushing the caught delinquent to his actual workplace with a kick.
So it happened one day that my ‘Timoshenko’ could not ‘work’ for me because a strict supervisor was on duty. I felt sorry for the lad as he crept around our training barracks, mourning with a pitiful expression the much longed for and urgently needed bread, which he could not ‘earn’. His astonishment was all the greater when, in an unguarded moment, I slipped him the loaf of bread. He did not seem to be able to understand that he was being paid without doing any work. It almost seemed to me that I noticed in his submissive look a flashing distrust, fear of a possible trap he might fall into. Whether it was my encouraging nod or hunger-driven desire, I cannot say, in any case, after a brief hesitation, he quickly stowed away the precious commodity and went on with the assigned work, risking a furtive glance now and then to see if some mischief might come his way. The next day I saw ‘Timoshenko’ for the last time. He fell ill and was sent to a military hospital for Russian prisoners of war. What became of him, I never knew. But I owe to the episode just described with the ‘given’ bread the conversation which impressed and influenced me so strongly and which I would like to reproduce here.
A slim and blond Russian prisoner of war, about 25 years old, a native of Moscow and a student at a technical university, found the opportunity to talk to me a few days later and thanked me in very good German for his fellow prisoner, who was no longer in our battery. I told him that it was nothing special to give something even without an obligation. He thought about it for a long time before he answered: ‘That is not usual with us. We Russians probably would not do such a thing in the same situation.’ Only performance would be rewarded; there would be no room for sentimental actions. Quite unimaginable the thought of even helping an enemy. I told him that for me it was not a question of the status of friend or foe, but of the person who could not help being on the other side and not on ours, and whose stomach growled when he was hungry, and that it would make no difference what uniform the individual was wearing in this case. Also the readiness shown by ‘Timoshenko’ to do something would have been reason enough to give. One would also have to distinguish between an opponent in battle, who would be facing an equal chance of winning, and a defenseless prisoner, who would be largely depend on the help and kindness of the momentarily stronger, the defeater.
Astonished, the Russian asked me whether we Germans all thought that way. I do not remember today whether it was vanity, that my words might have impressed the Russian, who was nevertheless about ten years older, or honest conviction, which made me answer: almost all of us would act that way; it had nothing to do with relentlessness in battle, but was a completely natural expression of humanity. He squeezed my hand and said before he left: If we could all think like that, there probably would not have been a war, he would not be here today, I would not have to stand here at such a young age either. I could think of nothing better than to tell him that he should wait a little longer, that I wanted to get him some bread and a piece of margarine. He thanked me, obviously moved, but asked me to understand that he refused. He would have to think over our conversation before he could change his previous attitude towards us Germans, his enemies, to which I would also belong – if that was at all possible!
In the evening, I thought about this conversation for a very long time. I was still too young to form a final judgment about the meaning – if there was one – of war. In history classes we had heard about the most diverse kinds of wars – religious wars, wars of conquest, racial wars, defensive wars, colonial wars, economic wars, and many others – and we were always in the right, regardless of whether we were the victors or the vanquished afterwards. A preprogrammed feeling of hatred against every former and future opponent was instilled in us. Was it not similar with my Russian interlocutor? Did he and his people not feel they were in the right, just like us? And who was right? We young Luftwaffenhelfer – although ideologically one-sidedly instructed and oriented by the Hitler Youth and partly by school – lacked experience and farsightedness, objectivity and tolerance to make a judgment here. I was inwardly conflicted, the enthusiasm for our task had been dampened. In addition, my Russian interlocutor avoided meeting me again. I could guess what opinion he had reached, and that likewise did not help me to fully identify with the moral duty to fight to the last.
The fact that I nevertheless continued my service at the gun without any cutbacks had many reasons, of which I will mention only a few: I simply did not find an alternative to my previous views that could have convinced me completely. The comradely bond to the class association and the close connection to longtime friends prevented me from breaking away from the community and the tasks it had to perform. Later, there was also the anger of being almost powerless in the face of the Allied bombing raids on my hometown, without being able to adequately protect my parents and relatives, friends and acquaintances, the houses, streets and courtyards I had grown fond of, the parks and theaters, stores and factories.
Today – 40 years later – I feel sorry for myself, the 15-year-old who was confronted at such a young age with decisions that went beyond his mental and, above all, emotional powers. And today I also muster the understanding that at that time I did not succeed in finding one – the right – answer to all the questions.”
The report indicates the mechanisms of war and how, once unleashed, the war machine is continuously fed by the fact that hatred always causes more hatred, ultimately leaving among the population only losers and sufferers. Not least because of this experience, two mottoes have been the unchallenged foundation of the German state since the end of the Second World War: “No more war!” and “Do nip things in the bud!” Anyone deviating from these principles accepts that history will repeat itself – or is even striving to achieve this.
(Head picture: Unknown Luftwaffenhelfer,
from: Nicolaisen, „Der Einsatz der Luftwaffen- und
Marinehelfer im zweiten Weltkrieg“ (1981), image section after p. 135)
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