much longer? I have no great hope that it will be soon. The distances
in Russia devour us. It was a sentiment that his hard-pressed marching
infantry knew only too well.
Peter Bamm wrote of the summer advance,
fields of the Ukraine . . . The pace of the advance was murderous . .
The horses had grown so lean that they showed every rib. None of us
had an ounce of superfluous fat. Another soldier recalled the mood
rather three wars with France than one with Russia. I fully share this
weeks, [we] have been on our feet day and night Alois Scheuer was even
everyday we advance 45 kilometres. The sheer vastness of the eastern
theatre, and the endless depths into which the operations extended,
struck some German soldiers with justified foreboding. After hundreds
of kilometres it was still impossible to see an end and the distances
sat in my truck looking out over the tranquil countryside, trying
desperately to fight down an irrational anxiety. I hardly knew myself
. . . faced with this vast expanse of country, I found myself gripped
being trapped.
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