The Eve of Barbarossa

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Leutnant Hermann von Steinbrecher checked his watch for probably the hundredth time. He was sitting atop the turret of Panzer 231, his crew were trying to sleep at their positions, some having more luck than others. Von Steinbrecher wondered what his old crew were up to.

He had spent enough time with Willi Hoffmeister, Fritz Weber, Horst Krebs, and Ulrich Neuhäuser that he felt he knew them well. When the orders had come down transferring them to a detachment being sent to North Africa, he had protested.

"Herr Major, we have been training as a crew, as a platoon leader I need to ..."

"I know Hermann, I know. They asked for experienced men, Hoffmeister had his own vehicle in France, assigning you to them was in order to train you." Major Hans Waldmann had poked von Steinbrecher in the chest for emphasis. "If it makes you feel any better, Hoffmeister wished to stay in your platoon. Which tells me, he did his job. Pretty well, if I'm any judge."

Von Steinbrecher remembered blushing at the compliment and saying, "Sorry Sir, it's just that we ..."

"Yes, yes, you worked very well together, you and Hoffmeister made your platoon one of the very best in the battalion." Waldmann had a habit of finishing his subordinates sentences, he was a very abrupt man, not given to idle chit chat.

Von Steinbrecher had finally realized that any further conversation on the topic of Hoffmeister and the rest of the crew being transferred would probably just annoy the man, so he had dropped it with a, "Zu befehl, Herr Major." Then he had bashed his heels together, saluted and spun on his heel.

"Ah well, it's probably for the best." he said to the night sky. In less than three hours he and his platoon would be advancing to the east. The invasion of Russia was about to begin.

Schütze Jan Kołodziej woke up well before the rest of his squad. He was troubled, and not just by the fact that the invasion of Russia was to begin within hours. A letter he had received was on his mind.

Three days ago a letter had arrived for him from Warszawa, or "Warschau" as the Germans insisted, to fit in he followed suit. (That caused him pain each and every time he said it, or the German name for any number of Polish towns.) The letter had been from an old friend, though the return address had puzzled him at first, "Fr. Elizabeth Brot." Until the recall of the Polish "Warszawa" versus the German "Warschau," the letter had to be from Elżbieta Chlebek. (Chlebek being the word for "bread" in Polish, "Brot" in German.)

When he had torn it open his hopes had been confirmed, it was from Elżbieta. She was alive and working in a German hospital in Warszawa.

Jan, 

Ever since the day I saw you in that uniform I have been torn. Torn between the feelings I had for you before the war and the disgust I felt upon seeing you in that uniform.

Now I know why, I have done similar things in order to survive and pray for the end of this war. As I pray for your safety and well-being.

Stay alive, my love. Stay alive.

Yours,

E

Part of him was ready to desert from this army he had more or less been forced into (see here). But he realized that getting back to Warszawa was impossible at this juncture. It seemed that the entire German military was on the road heading east, going against that tide would be nearly impossible without the right papers. Out of uniform he had every expectation of being shot out of hand by the Niemcy. He had seen it himself.

Better to stay with his unit and survive.

"Why aren't you sleeping Jan?" Kołodziej heard the voice of his buddy, Kazimir Dutka, another Pole conscripted into the German army.

"Just thinking of that letter, Kazimir. It gives me hope where I had none before."

"Hope? We're invading Russia in the morning, and you have hope? You're either an optimist or a fool, Jan."

Gefreiter Ernst Paulus interrupted the two Poles, "If you two Schwachköpfe¹ are done sleeping, one of you can go get me some coffee, the other check the gun. We'll need both before the sun is up!"

"231, 201, you boys awake over there?" von Steinbrecher had to grin, Hauptmann Oswald Erdinger was in fine fettle this morning.

"Jawohl, Herr Hauptmann, awake and raring to go!" von Steinbrecher answered.

"Sehr gut, I want your boys on the right flank, column formation for now. Use your judgement as to the best formation once we roll forward."

"Got it, gute Jagd Herr Hauptmann!²"

"Gleichfalls!³"

Over the platoon net, von Steinbrecher issued his orders, he had Panzer 235, Unteroffizier Kurt Schmeling's Panzer, take the lead. Per their discussed platoon doctrine, 234 would take up position behind 235, followed by the others in reverse turret number⁴. Which left Panzer 231, von Steinbrecher's command tank, in the rear.

The infantry kept their heads down as the artillery pounded the Soviet front lines, when it stopped, they would advance to contact. Every man hoped that the artillery would do their jobs for them. If the guns could kill enough Russians or otherwise demoralize them, then the infantry could simply roll forward and clear holes for the armor to punch through to the rear.

Only the men who were new to war really believed this, the veterans knew better.

One thousand four-hundred and sixteen days of Hell were about to begin.

¹ Dimwits (German)

² Good hunting Captain! (German)

³ Same to you! (German)

⁴ The German Panzerwaffe had a numbering scheme for the vehicles, the first digit was the company, the second was the platoon, the last was the individual vehicle number within the platoon.