War Without Garlands: Operation Barbarossa 1941-1942

‘Endless pressure to participate’

Every conscript army is a reflection of the society from which it is drawn. The Wehrmacht in 1941 was not totally the image of the Nazi totalitarian state: it had, after all, only recently developed from the Weimar Reichswehr. It was, however, in transition. The process had begun in 1933. Progress could be measured in parallel with the economic and military achievements of the Third Reich. Blitzkrieg in Poland, the Low Countries and France had brought with it heady success. The German Wochenschau newsreel showing Hitler’s triumphant return from France showed him at the height of his power. Shadows thrown up by the steam-driven express train, Nazi salutes from solitary farmers en route juxtaposed against the sheer size of hysterical crowds greeting his return in Berlin have a true Wagnerian character. Children dressed in Hitlerjugend (Hitler Youth) uniforms wave gleefully from lampposts. Adoring breathless women are held back by SS crowd-controllers. Goering, standing with Hitler on the Reich Chancellery balcony, is visibly and emotionally impressed by the roaring crowd whose cheering dominates the soundtrack.

The Wehrmacht’s morale, bathing in this adoration, was at its height. Wochenschau pictures of the French victory parade in Berlin, with close-ups of admiring women, and the pathos of a solitary high-heeled shoe left in the road as the crowd is pushed back from flower-bedecked troops, say it all. The troops were jubilantly received. Organisations and private people ‘render thanks to our deserving soldiers’, the newsreels opined. The wounded and those on leave received a torrent of presents and invitations. These were the good times. Schütze Benno Zeiser remembered on joining the army in May 1941:

Success bred an idealistic zeal, producing an over-sentimental outpouring of the Nazi Weltanschauung that in modern democratic and more cynical times would appear positively alien. Leutnant Hermann Witzemann, a former theology student, marching with an infantry unit eastwards from the Atlantic coast, grandly announced to his diary:

The postwar generation has had enormous difficulties reconciling and identifying with soldiers who clearly believed in God on the one hand and were seemingly decent human beings, yet on the other appeared receptive to a racist philosophy that enjoined them to disregard international law and the laws of armed conflict. One German soldier after the war, removed from the prevailing conditions that shaped and moulded him, gave an exasperated and often misconstrued view of the ‘Landser’ (the German equivalent of the British ‘Tommy’) on the eve of ‘Barbarossa’:

An element of racism formed an integral part of the society that had developed from the Imperial period, subdued to some extent during the Weimar Republic but more overt after 1933. He continued:

To comprehend this statement, one must penetrate and attempt to identify some of the aspects and atmosphere that characterised the Nazi social fabric. Its outward manifestation was to reflect and impact upon the character and conduct of the German soldier. The soldier was under peer pressure to conform to the commonly accepted prejudices of his fellows, which had the effect of intensifying them. In a letter a month before the invasion of Russia, one conscript related a conversation with his parents:

Those disagreeing with such a notion were unlikely to identify themselves by standing apart from the crowd and speaking up. Indeed, the whole ethos of army service was about subjugating oneself to the whole. Such unquestioning obedience was likewise required by the Nazi state which the soldier served. It was, therefore, a question of individual choice and personal ethics in an environment demanding corporate obedience. The state in time insidiously corrupted values, which, if they were not changed, were effectively subdued. Margot Hielscher, an actress, explained:

National Socialism exploited all the modern means at its disposal to institute social change – in particular the media of radio and film. Both were cheap. The Nazi regime ensured radio receivers were mass-produced and offered at little cost, while the cinema was popular and readily available. A breathless pace of change was achieved from 1933 onwards. Modern ideologies tended, in any case, to blur the process of choice and action. This was particularly the case for the young, many of whom were to be conscripted into military service. ‘There was no time to catch one’s breath, no time to reflect, no refuge from the endless pressure to participate.’⁽⁶⁾

Some three million German soldiers and their allies were poised to attack the Soviet Union on 22 June 1941. How aware were they that there was some choice regarding the values they were ordered to compromise? Some 17–19 million Germans were eventually to serve on the Russian front from an overall total of 19–20 million under arms. Although all were old enough to kill as combat soldiers, they were completely naïve in terms of political awareness. Many actually reached adulthood during their service, but their only experience of politics was within a totalitarian state. They have since often been morally judged by historians who had only ever been exposed to the principles and values of the modern democratic constitutional state. Both conceptions are poles apart in terms of a common shared experience. Max Kuhnert, a German cavalry trooper, recalled the stultifying transition from civilian to military life. Even with six months’ Arbeitsdienst behind him, where ‘we had comradeship and learned discipline’ with a healthy life, the shock when it came was considerable:

Political choice is irrelevant when the vast majority of the population has no conception of what can or should be put in place of a totalitarian state. History also suggests⁽⁸⁾ that brutal dictatorships inspire certain patterns of behaviour among people that in normal circumstances would be considered unusual, unappealing or even repulsive. Siegfried Knappe, serving as a young officer in 1938, recalled the impact of the Kristallnacht (pogrom conducted against the Jews in Berlin) among his fellows. ‘We did not talk about it in the barracks,’ he said, ‘because we were ashamed that our government would permit such a thing to happen.’ Reluctance to discuss such sensitive issues was not unusual. Knappe admitted: ‘strong anti-Semitism had always been just beneath the surface in the German population, but no one I knew supported this kind of excess.’⁽⁹⁾ A revealing statement, indicative of the then prevalent flaw within the German character, true for officers and soldiers alike. Anti-Semitic excess was not even identifiable as such to many. Helmut Schmidt, a young Luftwaffe Flak officer serving with the 1st Panzer Division poised to invade Russia, has succinctly summed up the dilemma. His age group, he reasoned after the war, had no standard to measure themselves by, declaring:

Personal standards and individual moral resilience were, therefore, in conflict with accepted peer pressure. There was not a general collective or even total acceptance of Nazi standards; many simply chose to pursue the line of least resistance. Such a course may not even have involved conscious reflection. All one had to do was ‘join in’, which the Nazi Weltanschauung philosophy enjoined all to do. Knappe claimed Hitler’s ‘hatred of the Jews made no sense to any of us, and we just wanted to distance ourselves from the ugly side of his character’.⁽¹¹⁾ It was easier, indeed safer, to do nothing. This tied in with the soldiers’ universal earthy philosophy of ‘not volunteering’, neither should anyone ‘stick his neck out’. Inge Aicher-Scholl exemplified the consequences of an alternative course. Her brother and sister were to be executed two years later as members of the ‘White Rose’ Resistance Group to Hitler. On being arrested and questioned by the Gestapo, she was under no illusion where alternative philosophical paths might lead:

She signed a paper agreeing that should she discuss her interrogation with anyone, it would provide grounds for a rearrest. It produced a persistent nagging fear. ‘From that day on,’ she said, ‘I was afraid of prison, and this fear made me very timid and passive, just completely inactive.’⁽¹²⁾

Hauptmann Klaus von Bismarck, a battalion adjutant in Infantry Regiment 4, remembers he was shocked on receiving the Commissar Order. Communist Party officials, namely political commissars, captured serving with the Red Army, were to be shot.

Infantry Regiment 4, waiting in its assembly area as part of the invasion force, was, as Bismarck described, ‘a conservative regiment, still for the most part distinguishable as part of the 100,000- man army of the Weimar period’.⁽¹³⁾ Hauptmann Alexander Stahlberg of the 12th Panzer Division heard about the Commissar Order from his cousin, Henning von Tresckow, a staff officer in HQ Army Group Centre. ‘That would be murder!’ was his assessment. His cousin concurred:

Appalled, Stahlberg asked from whom the order came. ‘From the man to whom you gave your oath [Adolf Hitler]. As I did,’ responded his cousin ‘with a penetrating look’. Oberstleutnant Heinrich Becker, his commanding officer, formally briefed the Commissar Order to his officers and was met by a ‘deathly silence’. Before dismissing them, Becker warned:

They did. Von Bismarck in Infantry Regiment 4 had determined not to shoot commissars because as a soldier and Christian he could not see why Wehrmacht people should despatch others simply because they possessed an alternative view of the world. They were all officers and took their own individual rather than collective decision on how they intended to conduct themselves during the coming campaign.

There were others with an equally robust alternative view. Unteroffizier Wilhelm Prüller with Army Group South confided to his diary on 22 June, following the announcement of the impending invasion:

Anti-Semitism was never far beneath the outwardly decent demeanour of the majority. He noticed the Jews in Tschenstochov and other large towns ‘are herded together’, and that every man and woman is obliged to wear a white arm-band with a blue star of Zion on it. ‘That’s the way it should be in the whole world!’ he confided. There was scant sympathy shown by the majority of German soldiers for the plight of the Polish population in the occupation zone. ‘The people in general,’ Prüller observed, ‘are in a very depressed state.’ They walked with heads down. Huge queues formed everywhere for food. ‘The Poles won’t have a very rosy time of it!’⁽¹⁵⁾ he commented. Nor indeed would the Russians.

‘Order and Duty’ and the Führer

‘Order and Duty’ were vital prerequisites demanded of the German soldier. He was familiar with them, because they were established Germanic qualities. The Nazi state harnessed Prussian virtues to its own ends. It was not a question of unthinking, unconditional obedience. They involved self-discipline and self-mastery: willingness to accept the consequences before God and man of one’s own actions, whatever the cost. It was a philosophy that could be, and was, cynically exploited. It started at youth. Henry Metelmann, training as a recruit when the Russian campaign began, commented:

Roland Kiemig, as a 14-year-old Hitler Youth, reflected, ‘everywhere there was a certain regimentation. You didn’t just walk around uselessly, you marched.’ All this had a certain purpose. Metelmann’s view was that training in the Hitler Youth ‘meant the army was able to train us more speedily’. Therefore, ‘when we were finally let loose on the Panzers, we knew what it was all about.’⁽¹⁾ Kiemig’s basic training on entering the army subjected him to a rigorous regime that clouded his perception of values. They were replaced with those the army wished him to retain.

There was rarely resistance to such a process. Götz Hrt-Reger, a Panzer soldier, explained it was ‘totally normal training in how to be a social being’. They experienced the shock impact any soldier undergoes in the transition from a relatively sheltered civilian life to the rigours of basic military training. ‘Of course,’ remarked Hrt-Reger, ‘if anybody – let’s say – misbehaved, there would naturally be consequences.’⁽³⁾ German recruits ran round in circles, frog-jumped, hopped up and down, drilled with full equipment, ran – threw themselves down – got up, and were made to repeat the process. ‘Whenever I see a man in uniform now,’ recalls Panzer soldier Hans Becker,⁽⁴⁾ ‘I picture him lying on his face waiting for permission to take his nose out of the mud.’ The aim was to wear the recruit down until he responded automatically with no resistance. It worked. Kiemig realised that:

The decision to invade Russia was not likely, therefore, to generate anything more than superficial discussion, as also their personal moral conduct in that campaign. Leutnant Hubert Becker explained:

Discipline was ingrained. The corruption of values implicit upon acceptance of the Commissar Order was not a subject open for discussion. Many soldiers would agree with Hubert Becker’s opinion voiced after the war. They knew of no alternative.

Faith in the Führer motivated German soldiers poised to invade Russia. The oath of the soldier ‘Ich schwöre…’ was made to Adolf Hitler first, then God and the Fatherland. Henry Metelmann recalled after swearing the oath, ‘we had become real soldiers in every conceivable sense.’ Metelmann’s background and experience was representative of millions of German soldiers waiting on the ‘Barbarossa’ start-line. ‘We were brought up to love our Führer, who was to me like a second God, and when we were told about his great love for us, the German nation, I was often close to tears,’ he wrote. Disillusionment would follow, but in 1941 Hitler was at the height of his powers. Idealism and gratitude for seemingly positive achievements sustained popularity despite setbacks to come. Metelmann recalled with some affection what he felt the Nazis had delivered:

The Weimar Republic proclaimed in 1918 had borne the burdens of a lost war. It was for many of its citizens simply a way-station for something better. Values such as thrift and hard work had been made irrelevant by inflation. Martin Koller, a Luftwaffe pilot, pointed out: ‘My mother told me, when I was born [in 1923] a bottle of milk cost a billion marks.’⁽⁸⁾ The economy, characterised by high unemployment, low profits and negative balances of payment through the 1920s, appeared to be saved by the advent of the Führer. Bernhard Schmitt, an Alsatian, summed up the feelings of many Germans who voted for Hitler when he said:

Even Inge Aicher-Scholl, later to lose a brother and sister to the state, said:

Even when events turned sour, Hitler’s soldiers continued to believe in him. Otto Kumm, serving in the Waffen SS, admitted: ‘Sure, we had some second thoughts at the end of the western campaign in 1940, when we let the British get away, but these didn’t last long.’ Nobody questioned the higher leadership; indeed, the Führer’s soldiers believed in him. Kumm’s doubts ‘were superficial and didn’t cause us to question Hitler or his genius’.⁽¹¹⁾

The German army on the eve of ‘Barbarossa’ was confident in itself and its Führer. Grenadier Georg Buchwald stated: ‘we had done well in France’,⁽¹²⁾ an impression shared by Hauptmann Klaus von Bismarck, who opined: ‘We were highly impressed with ourselves – our vitality, our strength and our discipline.’⁽¹³⁾ Victory over France had also changed sentiments back home. Herbert Mittelstadt, a 14-year-old, was astounded to hear his mother refer to ‘our wonderful Führer’ after the French victory. In his view, ‘despite her various and special religious beliefs she must have pondered the matter over a period, that all would turn out positive, and that the war could be won.’ His father had spent three years at the front in World War 1, and had ‘probably always suffered a little with the trauma of the defeat’.⁽¹⁴⁾

Stefan Thomas, a medic and social democrat, was approached by an old veteran political campaigner who admitted that perhaps they were ‘in the wrong party’. Thomas had cause to reflect: ‘my father had lain three long years in the mud of Champagne before Verdun in World War 1, and now in 1940, one saw France fall apart in a three to four weeks’ Blitzkrieg.’⁽¹⁵⁾

This confidence was reflected in the cameraderie and demeanour of the soldiers. As in all armies, ‘Thema Eins’ (theme one) was women. Events, therefore, worked to their advantage. Panzer NCO Hans Becker remembered the ‘magical’ effect war decorations had on the girls.

Landser jargon, ‘soldier talk’, adapted tactical military expressions to describe their relationships with women. Annäherung, the approach to an objective, was to ‘trap a bird’. Ranrobben, to ‘get stuck in now’, ‘frontal attack’ and ‘emergency landings’ provided graphic conventional military descriptions of developing relations with the opposite sex.

Wehrmacht soldiers had never had it so good. One Panzer NCO dressed in black uniform, on losing his girlfriend’s ring in a cinema, had his money refunded on explaining his predicament to the manager. The latter, acutely embarrassed, apologised on behalf of the teller who had mistaken his black uniform for the Hitler Youth! Unteroffizier Jürgen E., apprehended by an attractive girl on home leave, was enticed to join her in a flat. Hardly believing his luck he shyly followed. On entry the lights came on, and he found to his astonishment that he had been ‘captured’ by the young lady for a party. She won the competition she was engaged in, and the young NCO was awarded the prize within weeks. The lady became his wife.

Two signallers, Karl Heinz Krause and Hanns Karl Kubiak, based in eastern Prussia, were despatched to Berlin to pick up spare radio parts required for the forthcoming Russian campaign. Krause struck up an amorous relationship with a young cook named Bertha. Kubiak was persuaded to write romantic letters on behalf of the less than literate Krause, in exchange for a share of the resulting food parcels, regularly despatched by the cook. Even when both were subsequently wounded in Russia, Krause kept the relationship going to ensure the continuity of much appreciated resupplies, claiming he had received wounds to both hands. Bertha thankfully continued to be compassionate. Soldiers, as ever, made the most of opportunities between life and death.⁽¹⁷⁾

‘Prepared… to face what is coming!’ The German Army, June 1941

Conquering France in six weeks had been a military achievement of some magnitude, but in a number of respects the campaign had been unique. Many allied divisions were obliged to undergo their baptism of fire in mobile situations for which they were unprepared. General von Kluge’s Fourth Army campaign evaluation, coolly detached, admitted victory had transpired under special circumstances. Factors such as the poor morale of the French Army, complete German air superiority, exceptionally favourable weather and the double surprise of the employment of massed tanks and aircraft all conspired to produce resounding success.⁽¹⁾

German tactical principles were particularly sound. Auftragstaktik, a philosophy of mission directives giving subordinates maximum freedom of action in pursuing clearly identified tasks, enabled initiatives, once grasped, to be retained. General Erich von Manstein, a corps commander, similarly assessed that success was due to the enemy’s inability to defeat German tanks. The lesson to derive for the future was that other nations would similarly mass their tanks, motorise their infantry and aggressively use their air forces to support ground combat.⁽²⁾ There would be no more cheap victories. After the painful initial ordeal of combat, many French divisions fought well after Dunkirk, even against hopeless odds. By the end of the campaign in the West the German Army had lost one quarter of its total tank strength – 683 tanks were lost – and 26,455 men were killed, 111,640 wounded and 16,659 missing in action.⁽³⁾ It had not been a total walk-over.

The German Army officer corps meanwhile had retained a healthy respect for the Red Army. If the experience of World War 1 was any indication, a fight with the Russian Army would be a serious affair. Its soldiers had always demonstrated innate combat toughness with the ability to endure great hardship. Their tactical doctrine, not dissimilar from the German, was aggressive. Von Kluge’s assessment was that, although his Fourth Army motorised forces had performed well in France, they were not tough enough for Russia. They needed to be more aggressive in the attack.⁽⁴⁾

On 20 March 1941, he directed that training should concentrate on hardening the soldiers, since in Russia they would be without even the simplest comforts. Men and horses had to practise longdistance marches, be prepared to cope with chemical and biological weapons, and anticipate assaults, when they came, to consist of several and deep waves of infantry supported by tanks and artillery. German infantry weapon co-ordination would have to improve if ever they were to defeat such attacks. Soldiers needed to be tougher to cope with the inevitability of close combat and overcome their present aversion to fighting at night. The Russians, described as ‘children of nature’, revelled in night combat. Despite shortcomings, the Red Army was better equipped than the Wehrmacht’s previous victims. German soldiers would have to copy the Spanish and Finnish infantry precedents of attacking tanks with explosive charges. The coming war would not be conducted on roads as in the West; limitless space and massive forest areas would need to be reconnoitered and cleared. German headquarters staffs would now be vulnerable. Normal security precautions would not suffice. Headquarters personnel should become familiar with their side-arms and expect to use them.⁽⁵⁾ For some, it was a daunting prospect.

As successful as the German Army had been, its hasty expansion had resulted in organisational problems and insufficient training. Overall fighting ability appeared to have even declined. This was reflected in low marksmanship standards, a disinclination for close combat, night and forest fighting, and reluctance to exercise and bivouac in the field and dig entrenchments.⁽⁶⁾ Hitler’s policy of spending lavish sums of money on military barracks had softened his soldiers. Accommodation demonstrated just how much the German soldier of 1939 was spoiled and pampered compared to his 1914 counterpart. Modernised versions of these barracks are still in use today.

The infantry, although unable to set the pace of the coming campaign – which would be the task of the motorised formations – still constituted the bulk of the fighting power of the German Army. Only it could fix and destroy the pockets of resistance planned to be surrounded and held by the motorised formations until they caught up. Yet the German infantry was badly in need of a period of reform and consolidation following a series of conflicting demobilisations and reconstitutions. Lessons from the French campaign had been clear. More motorisation and effective reconnaissance units were urgently required. The pace of the campaign had been much influenced by the speed of infantry marching on foot. Infantry divisions spearheading advances in France created ad hoc motorised advanced battalions by pressing captured vehicles, including civilian, into service.

A more effective anti-tank gun was required to replace the 37mm ‘door-knocker’, so called because of its inability to penetrate allied tanks, as well as better use of artillery and artillery observation units. The reorganisation of the German infantry arm was now a conceivable option if captured French equipment was used. In the midst of the French campaign, Hitler officially directed the army to reduce in strength to 120 divisions, while concurrently expanding its mobile element to 20 Panzer and 10 motorised divisions.⁽⁷⁾

The resulting demobilisation provided the army with a reserve supply of weapons and equipment. Ten weeks later Hitler reversed the decision, calling for an expansion up to 180 divisions, to pursue the Russian campaign. With only 11 months remaining to the invasion, time and energy were devoted to creating new units and operational planning. Any hopes of modernisation – motorising infantry and artillery, introducing new weapons and standardising tables of organisation and equipment – were gone.

Occupying Europe and garrisoning the flanks and rear of the proposed invasion led to the identification of commitments which the German General Staff assessed would require the army to field 208 divisions by June 1941. There were other agencies also competing for the army’s increasingly scant resources of manpower and equipment. Goering’s Luftwaffe expanded its ground combat capabilities after the fall of France. On 3 December 1940 Hitler directed the creation of a parachute corps using the army’s 22nd Infantry Division as an air-land nucleus. Two months before, 4,500 army paratroopers and 20,000 rifles and pistols were absorbed. British bombing raids over the Reich required the army – on Hitler’s insistence – to turn over 15,000 Flak guns and 1,225 officers in the summer of 1940 to Luftwaffe air defence. On 8 November 1940 Hitler further ordered the expansion of the Waffen SS from two and a half to four divisions, and the SS Regiment ‘Leibstandarte’ to a full brigade. This prompted army officers to complain the SS were a ‘wandering arsenal’ led by men who had never seen combat, and that these weapons would be better served by ‘Third Wave’ conscripted divisions of World War 1 veterans. At the end of August 1940, Hitler ordered the army to release 300,000 metal workers back into the armaments industry. To expand to 180 divisions, the army drafted the age groups of 1919, 1920 and 1921. They began basic training in August 1940. They would finish one month prior to the Russian campaign.⁽⁸⁾

Hitler’s instructions to double the number of motorised divisions was virtually unachievable. In May 1940 there were 10 Panzer divisions; this was expanded to 19 by June 1941. Tank numbers in individual divisions were halved to achieve the reorganisation. Obsolete PzKpfwIs and PzKpfwIIs were recalled because German tank production was still very low, at under 200 per month. Instead of fielding a Panzer division with 324 tanks as in 1939, the 1941 divisions invading Russia were to number about 196 tanks (in reality, due to serviceability, between 150 and 200). Creating 10 new tank divisions required the army to remove more lorries from the infantry; even so, one Panzer division was solely equipped with captured French vehicles. The German infantry would therefore march even more short-handed than before. Some divisions were totally reliant upon captured Czech and French artillery and anti-tank guns. There was no standard organisation for the swiftly raised infantry motorised divisions. These were basically rifle regiments (equivalent to modern weak brigades) with two battalions of lorried infantry and one of motorcycles; sometimes there was a mechanised battalion riding in armoured half-tracks.

Rapid expansion diluted quality. The German infantry of 1941 differed little from that of 1939. Practically none of the reforms suggested at the end of the French campaign were carried out. The Panzer divisions were more numerous, had more medium tanks – PzKpfwIIIs and IVs – but were weaker than their 1939 counterparts. Delivery of new vehicles within the reorganisation phase continued right up to the very last moment, some even to the assembly areas preceding ‘Barbarossa’. Leutnant Koch-Erbach, a company commander in the 4th Panzer Division, took delivery of his 37mm anti-tank guns mounted in half-tracks ‘shortly before 22 June 1941’.⁽⁹⁾The SS Panzergrenadier Brigade ‘Leibstandarte Adolf Hitler’ started the campaign with 2,325 vehicles of which 240 were captured. Over 1,200 vehicles were to break down quickly due to lack of replacement parts.⁽¹⁰⁾ The 20th Panzer Division had been obliged to occupy its assembly area in East Prussia in May 1941 short of many vehicles. Replacements arrived, according to the official unit history, ‘in parts, and initially only a few days before the start of the attack’.⁽¹¹⁾ The logistic system was straining to cope, and the campaign had yet to start.

The 98th Infantry Division had been demobilised after the French campaign and then reconstituted in February 1941. Training began in earnest, ‘but “what is to happen to the 98th Division?” was a question that occupied everyone’. Moreover it appeared that the ‘industrial holidaymakers’ – those temporarily demobilised – had forgotten much ‘during the interim period’.⁽¹²⁾ It demonstrated that German soldiers were ordinary men. As in all armies, soldiers were subject to and (reluctant, even if they wished, to resist) peer pressure. Conscript soldiers were positively discouraged from being independently minded. The system operated as teams to be effective en masse. This was a factor of training. The soldiers for their part did not want ‘to stick their neck out’. So nobody was going to debate the Commissar Order. The German soldier believed in his superior officers and the Führer, who had already demonstrated economic, diplomatic and, more recently, military prowess. If they were to invade the Soviet Union, well, the Führer knew his business and had it in hand. Soldiers were comfortable with Befehl und Gehorsam (law and order) and the ‘soldierly’ concept of duty. His officers were confident that, in spite of the difficulties confronting him, the individual German soldier was innately superior to his Soviet counterpart.

The 120 German divisions poised on the border of the Soviet Union on 22 June 1941 represented potentially the most lethal striking force yet seen in the history of warfare. They were in terms of technology and tactical proficiency far superior to their opponents and were to attack with the benefit of surprise and timely concentration of force. In ideological commitment they possessed a fervour and enthusiasm that would never again be matched by succeeding German armies. The cream of German youth was going to battle: 75% of the Wehrmacht’s total field army and 61% of its air force. Oberleutnant Dr Maull, the battalion adjutant of Infantry Regiment 289, was awarded the Iron Cross just before he departed for Russia. He wrote to his wife:

What was to transpire was to alter the map of Europe for decades to come.