Ex-Wermacht writer Sven Hassel: 'war is a confidence trick'

[TonyGosling]

Extract from
The Legion Of The Damned
by Sven Hassel (1957)
Chapter 25, 'The Armoured Train'
Published by Corgi in 1969
ISBN 552 07241 9



We were a good five kilometres beyond the river before we made contact with the enemy, who suddenly fired a couple of shells at us. The train at once put on speed, so the noise of the heavy wheels almost drowned the howling of the shells. Then the alarm bells shrilled in all the turrets, and the order to open fire was given.
Each coach commander was informed of the target and in turn instructed his turret commanders. The big guns turned their black mouths to face the woods and fields lying there bathed in sunshine.
Then came the order : Fire! and there was a deafening, tremendous, rolling thunder, 'as our thirty heavy guns struck up their song of death for that smiling, summery landscape. It was not long before we were shrouded in smoke and dust. Each time that all the guns fired together in a great broadside, the train swayed so violently that we thought it was going over on its side. The Russians began to answer, and shells struck crashing against the sides of the coaches; but they were too small to do any harm. It was not long, though, before our fire was being answered by heavy 28-cm. guns, and some of their shells took effect, striking down on us like hurricanes. We at once changed target and fired at the Russian artillery instead. Suddenly the train stopped. Soon it was being rumoured that one of the fore coaches had had a direct hit and one of its bogies been smashed. Some of our engineers had to slip out and, under cover of the train, tip the damaged coach off the line. It was imperative to get moving again as soon as possible, for a stationary armoured train is a helpless prey for the enemy's artillery. Before they had got that coach off the track, however, the Russians managed to-smash another coach, killing its entire crew.
This violent artillery fire forced us to withdraw towards the big iron bridge across the river. As we went we blew up the track behind us with tremendous bangs. Then our HQ on the far side of the river sent us orders to halt one kilometre east of the bridge and to cover the infantry while they were crossing it. Once they were over, we were to get ourselves across and the engineers would then blow up the bridge. Another armoured train, the 'Breslau', was being sent up to reinforce us, and as soon as it had taken up position by the bridge Oberst-leutnant Hinka wanted to make a thrust with our train down the Rostov-Voronesh line and do what he could to harass the enemy. Hinka thought that we ought to be able to get to the lesser town about twenty kilometres away, where there was a Russian divisional HQ. 'Breslau' was to remain halted by the bridge and fire at the enemy, in the hope that they might not discover that 'Leipzig' was on the move in their rear.
For the first few kilometres we tore along at full speed without being fired on, but then they turned their heaviest guns on us, and within fifteen minutes several of our coaches were badly damaged, though still able to fight. Then our locomotive itself received a couple of serious hits, and we had to retreat, crawling slowly back the way we had come.
Some big tanks moved up on us, and we had to dip the guns' barrels and engage them. It was a fantastic sight seeing them being hit. Our 12-cm. shells smashed such tanks to smithereens, sending steel plates flying through the air like feathers from a burst cushion.
Shells fell incessantly round our locomotive, which was losing steam through innumerable holes with the result that our speed was reduced to a slow, jerky progress. It was more than doubtful whether armoured train 'Leipzig' would get back.
When I think of all the fantastically costly material, both enemy and our own, that I have helped to smash, my mind boggles at the mere values involved. When you think of it, you must just laugh, loudly and shrilly, otherwise you would burst into tears and put a bullet through your brain. Do. people understand nothing? Do you, who read this, not realise what fantastic wealth is lying waiting for you to exploit, that if you used the military to your own advantage your material and cultural position Would be that of the well-to-do today? You would be able to. afford to live well, eat well and have a car each, or whatever it is that you want to have; you would be able to travel all over the world; you could go out and enjoy yourself; you would be able to set up house without fear or anxiety. There is enough, more than enough for all.
Nobody believes that - or, rather, nobody dares believe it. What is this curse that makes us all so inert and cowed that we cannot pull ourselves together and deprive the generals of their grants? We are oafs most of us, lazy and ignorant, and we nod our heads and are satisfied when we hear a lot of profound nonsense about 'balance of power' and 'interplay of forces' and all the rest of the jargon. Balance of Power? If every Tom, Dick and Harry were to. exert himself and demand that the money should be spent on making him better off instead of on arms and war there would be no war and we should all be better off. But the Toms, Dicks and Harrys must first bang their fists on the table and let it be known who holds the power and how that power is to be used.
But the fact is that Tom, Dick and Harry are not educated enough, and so they have to rely on their emotions, and that is not enough. Things will be all right, they say, and we're pretty well off as we are; and, anyway, we don't understand politics, and politicians only do the dirty on you as. soon as they get their fingers on the spoils. If you tell Tom, Dick or Harry that they could get a car for nothing and tax free, and that petrol need not cost more than a few pence a gallon, they just laugh, because they do not know. And if you begin to work it out for them and show them what everything costs, then they become angry, for that is tantamount to showing them that they are silly idiots paying their money away unnecessarily.
It took only a few hours to smash an armoured train equipped with guns, the barrels of which alone were worth a fortune. We were encompassed by howling shells, and though we smashed tank upon tank, they gradually closed in upon us like ghastly attacking insects.
Then the fire-control centre fell silent. Feverishly Pluto twiddled his knob, but he could not make contact even with the other coaches. From then on The Old Un himself had to fight our part of the battle. We were now only eight hundred metres from the bridge and 'Breslau'; but in the meantime 'Breslau' had been transformed into a blazing wreck and all its guns were silent.
A tremendous explosion shook our coach and made our heads sing. Some of the crew began screaming, screams that jabbed at our nerves, and smoke and flame poured from No. 1 turret. It was a direct hit. We tackled the resultant fire with our extinguishers, and then counted: four killed and seven wounded. Fortunately Stege was unhurt except for a few minor burns on his hands.
Now mine was the only gun left able to fire. We sweated as we moved about the overheated turret, into which. flames stabbed at every shot we fired. One after the other the coaches were smashed, and finally the whole train came to a stop, so that the enemy was able to get the range exactly. Then there was a bang like the Day of Judgment, and a searing white flame filled the turret. I received a violent blow on the chest and everything went black before my eyes. I groaned. It felt as though my body was being crushed. I had to breathe very carefully, but even so each breath was-like being stabbed with knives. I could not move. I was caught in a vice consisting of the gun, that had been forced from its seating, and the steel wall of the turret.

[Whitehall_Bin_Men]

The not so famous
Truce on the Eastern Front in WW2

Also From Legion of the Damned by Sven Hassel
SEPERATE PEACE
'Our battalion was going to be used as infantry and was to relieve the 14th Jager Battalion, which occupied a sector along the Donetz. The front was quiet, and we did not hear a shot as we moved into the lines by night.
As we took over, the men of the Jager Battalion's 7th Company said:
'Don't you go shooting at Ivan, now. They're a stout lot over there. We don't have any such crazy nonsense as shooting, here. '
We thought they were mad.
Shortly after sunrise we heard a tremendous commotion over on the Russian side, shouting and calling and hallooing. They were obviously enjoying themselves, we could hear that; then some of them appeared on the parapet of their trench and shouted good morning across to us, and we gaped in amaze­ment. At the same time, they asked politely if we were the new lot and if we had slept well. They hoped their dog had not disturbed us with its barking. Then things became' really lively on the Russian side: the whole lot of them came pouring out, stark naked, and dived head first into the river, while we hung half out of the trench staring at them with our eyes popping out of our heads. The Russians in the river called and shouted and splashed each other and bawled up at us:
'Hurry up and come in. The water's lovely and warm.'
Headed by Porta, stark naked but for a forage-cap, we rushed down. Porta jumped in with Stalin in his arms, and the Russians nearly drowned themselves laughing, when they heard that our cat was called Josef Vissarionovitch Stalin.
'This is the proper sort of war to have, don't you think?' shouted a Russian NCO, and we agreed with him. They gave three cheers for Germany, and we three cheers for Russia.
The Old Un was as delighted as a child. 'This is bloody fine,' he cried, his eyes sparkling. 'At home they would think it was a lie.'
The day brought more incredible surprises. It transpired, for example, that there was a -regular agreement that the Russians fired off a few shells every day between four o'clock and five-thirty, while we fired ours from three o'clock to four­ thirty, each shell dropping nicely in no-man's-land where it did nobody any harm. That satisfied the generals. When there was any shooting with machine-guns or small-arms they were naturally fired up into the air. If the Russians sent up a four­ starred red Very light it meant that there was a staff officer inspecting them and that for the sake of appearances they would have to do a little shooting with their automatics. When the inspecting officers had gone they sent up a green Very light. We had all sorts of signals that helped to. make life pleasant for everybody, and of course we visited, inviting each other to dinner and vodka. We swapped and bartered to our hearts' content; schnapps, tobacco, tinned foods, rugs, arms, watches, newspapers and magazines. Illustrated magazines were much sought after, and if we came across any pictures we found especially interesting we would make a trip across to. have the text translated, and, of course, the Russians did the same.
Otherwise those summer months passed quietly and smoothly in monotonous work. When in our quarters at Achtyrka we had to. help train the recruits who. kept pouring in from Germany in a never-ending stream. Training recruits is a baring jab, especially when you cannot see the paint of what you are doing.