The enemy [shells] have been plowing into our position for hours now.
The wind drives suffocating clouds of smoke over us. The Reds are
Their fire is landing very well. So well in fact, that one can see our
dreadful tarpaulins scattered all over. At times a hand with stiff and
cramped fingers or a boot sticks out from underneath them. Ladies,
these are your husbands and sons who are lying stiff and torn apart.
You are perhaps enjoying the sunny day at this moment, the babble of
your children or their sparkling eyes. You have no idea that soon you
will receive a letter that renders your life unbearable. Do not think
about this! God help me! Do not think about this! We know that the
suffering of our wives and mothers is greater than ours here in this
downpour of shrapnel.
The artillery fire suddenly stops in the afternoon. This is
understandable; even the toughest butcher must have a break for
breakfast. I can imagine how they are sitting over there, with grins
on their devilish faces black from the soot; I can imagine their
commissar as their dirty and greasy paws reach for the shells and
stroke the cool steel which tears apart the damn fascists.
Just wait you damn bloodhounds. Soon it will be our turn!
....Eastern Inferno-The Journals of a German Panzerjager on the
Eastern Front
by Hans Roth
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