大象传媒

The following story appears courtesy of and with thanks to Marushka (Maria) and Zygmunt Skarbek-Kruszewski and George (Jurek) Zygmunt Skarbek.

The day started normally. The people were still warming their hands on the pipes of the heating units after first hanging their mittens and socks on them. The hammering and boring began and the everyday noises filled the workshops. The wings went from bench to bench, covered with pictures and short aphorisms, full of longing and love sighs. Those wings going, from bench to bench were like an album full of sad literature in many languages. Wala, a young Ukrainian girl from Czerniakow, wearing a red beret, had the most poetic soul. She worked at the bench next to mine. She covered the sheet with long poems - parts were from Russian poets, parts she wrote herself. When the next flap arrived at our bench old Lange, pointing the finger at the writing, asked me if it was in Polish. On the flap, in an uneducated handwriting, was written in Russian:
Goodbye my unwashed Russia
The land of slaves and farmers
And you my navy uniforms
And you my obedient people.
I was astonished by the topic that could equally apply to a farewell by a grandfather as well as by his grandson. I did not know who put it there nor the thought behind it but it sure was the grandson. This day the 'Black' beat up three boys at their benches. Two Poles and a Yugoslav. He also dragged by force a sick Ukrainian girl from her barracks to the workshop. Our mood was gloomy. Luckily, in the evening someone brought news that the Russians had started a great offensive in Poland. The talk was about a large concentration of the army on the Vistula River and a constant shelling by the artillery. Everyone was excited. The news was whispered (shouted) from ear to ear in all languages. Next day the news was even better. There was a breakthrough on the eastern front. Once again we all got interested in war news. This news was partly confirmed by the German Headquarters and the official German Press. Some of our people had the possibility to listen to the news from other countries although listening to the radio of the allies and spreading the news was punishable by death. In spite of this we received, through hidden channels, the news from London, Switzerland and Moscow. The news became distorted by the different translations from one language to another. The Dutchmen told it to the Russians in German, the Russians repeated it in Russian to the Poles and the Poles to the French in German. The communication between the groups was sometimes really funny. The 'international' language was German but the majority could hardly speak it, using a few known slang words learned from the Swabians. If those few known words supported by a sign language were not enough, an interpreter was called, but there was no-one who could speak so many languages fluently. It was done in what we called 鈥榖y chain鈥�. I'll give an example. If a Ukrainian wanted to say something to the Frenchman he would call me. It did not mean that I could speak French. I, in turn, would call an Estonian and translate it to him in German. This Estonia had a friend who could speak French fluently but did not know either Ukrainian or Russian. When the Estonian finished translating the meaning, the Frenchman would turn to the first source and say "Gut, gut, verstanded." Of course there were many combinations, depending who wanted to speak with whom. The ordinary, everyday conversation was quite often transacted without any interpreters. The spreading of news from the Front was not hard at all. Our international language was greatly simplified by calling out names of cities lost by the Germans.
At the end of February, Czeslaw arrived quite unexpectedly in Isny. By chance he met Alma in Dresden and she told him that we were heading for Isny. We were very happy to see him and very anxious to know what had happened to him since we parted in Warsaw. If chance had not intervened, our ways would be the same as his.
After we left Czeslaw, all the evacuees under guard were taken aboard a train. Nobody knew where the train was going. When his train was passing another train going in the opposite direction, for some unknown reason both trains stopped beside each other. Czeslaw and others from his transport started to jump over to the other train. Before the Germans realised what was happening, the train started to move in -the direction of Warsaw, taking some of the evacuees and Czeslaw with it. It was rumoured that the stopping was an organised job. On one of the small stations Czeslaw changed trains and finished in Prushkow were he stayed in hiding for a few months at his friend's place.
After the fall of Warsaw he met some more of his friends. As he had to live and also to earn money, he and his friends decided to organise a fictitious company supposedly supplying goods to the German Army. There were many such companies. They started this business by chance. Going along the streets they saw a death notice of a German, a Mr. Metz. On the bottom of this notice was the name of the printer and his address. They went there and ordered one hundred letterheads with a nice name: 'Johann Metz and Co. - Eisenwarengesellshaft (Metalwork Co.)', including the address of the firm, telephone numbers and bank accounts. The best part was that the head offices were shown in a street in central Warsaw and the agencies in small towns of Poland at the time occupied by the Soviets. The story continued: this firm had now been evacuated and the directors, Czeslaw and his friend, had full authority for transactions. The authority empowerment papers were on beautiful paper, signed by the dead Johann Metz. They then started to go to different offices asking for different travel orders, different official permits to facilitate their work as, according to their story, they had to complete the evacuation and save their costly goods which were so needed by the army. In order to supply the army, they must start their activities in a new place. One official document, one rubber stamp created the way for others - at last they were able to travel anywhere, even using military vehicles, bringing to Wien and Krakow and the Czech Prague cigarettes and taking from them ladies' wear selling it in different towns. The business was prospering until Prague was taken by the Soviets. After hearing that we were in Isny, Czeslaw wrote a special travel order for his firm dealing in such important goods as metal and came to Isny to see what the prospects were there. This time the document certified that he was dealing in hydraulic brakes.
He showed us all his documents, all duly stamped and certified by high military offices. All, except the first one, fully authentic. It seemed incredible that all this business was just the work of imagination.
He spent a few days with us. Before leaving, he went to the 'Burgermeister' asking him to prepare storage place for his brakes and of course received additional coupons for food and cigarettes as the Burgermeister was quite impressed with this important businessman.
He returned to his headquarters to continue his business of Johann Metz and Co.
The news from the Front was fabulous - the tempo of the Soviet offensive was incredible.
When the Soviet Army stopped on the line of Odra, encircling the German armies in East Prussia, we were certain that the long-awaited finish of the war was near. The mood in the factory was a happy on. Nobody hid his or her happiness. The labourers talked animatedly, pounding each other on the shoulders.
This war news had a shattering effect on the Germans. The average locals, the bombed-out, the Party members had been brainwashed for a long time. Through speeches, Press and radio they were made to believe in the mighty Thousand Year Reich, in their Fuehrer who could never err, confirmed by all the war propaganda. They were stunned when they learned that the enemy crossed the frontiers of their own country, their Heimat, that Oberslesia was taken, that Pomerania was attacked, that Saxoni was threatened, that their own citizens were fleeing in panic from East and West Prussia. That the Russians who should have been crushed long ago were rushing now with impetus towards Berlin.
Of course it was hard for an average German to comprehend what was happening but he had to understand as even his own government could not hide any more the seriousness of their situation. The papers were writing 'Our country is in danger.' Goebbels coined a new slogan: "There is now no boundary between the country and the Front. The Front is our country and the country is our Front. Every German is now a soldier. 'Volkssturm' go ahead."
A great campaign started in Allgau for the 'Volkssturm'. To the last the human war material was squeezed out, from the farmers, the factories. The old and very young, the deaf and cripples, the war invalids who could walk, were organised in battalions of the 'Volkssturm'. Our chief boss appealed to all the Volksdeutsche, the 'race people' and other Germans to join voluntarily but his appeal was a total failure. Only a few came forward to join the Battalions. Heim still tried. He asked the people, singly, to his office; he explained and persuaded and ... got three more volunteers. Where the pressure was not great enough, the human self-protection won.
"Why should I join a business which is going bankrupt?" they were saying amongst themselves. "Why should I risk my skin? Why should I fight? We are not even true Germans."
Many of those who refused were sent to dig trenches near the Rhine which was being bombed by the English.
One day a party of German airmen arrived at the factory. They were pilots and mechanics. To our astonishment they were put to work on the production line just like ordinary labourers. They were all young men from the Soviet front. To our questions as to what they were doing here, they explained laughingly: "All our planes are 'kaput' so we came to help build new ones but before we finish all Germany will be 'kaput!" They did not hide their opinions. They did not care about anything. They were laughing at the 'Volkssturm', they could not care less about the 'race' and they quarrelled with the foremen who did not know how to treat the airmen. They hated the Party members and were rude to the work police. This mood started to infect the labourers. The production, never high, fell markedly and people were forming groups around the benches, talking. Although they returned to their workbenches on arrival of the foremen, they did it very slowly. The bosses tried to avoid real quarrels with the labourers - they looked the other way when something which was forbidden was being done. Some even tried to become friendly with the foreigners. Only one Party Member, Mr. Altenbach, did not change; he remained as he was before, a mad dog ready to bite.
The boss valued him and soon he became the boss' right hand because he could hold a labourer with his left hand and hit him strongly in the face with his right. We were afraid of him, which increased his authority. I must admit he was the only one left who tried to hold the factory together by his cruel power. Luckily he was not in our department. He was the tyrant in the wood shop where the majority of Frenchmen were working. One day the 'Black' once again dragged a sick Ukrainian girl to the workbench, pushing her hard. It was the same girl he had dragged out the previous time. She had tuberculosis. Pale and weak, she started to cry, and our first riot started. We told him that if he kept her at the bench we would all stop work, we were successful. After a short talk with his boss, he let her go back.
In the evening the foreman came to me telling me to follow him to the big boss. I was worried - what could Heim want from me? He did not even know me. From behind the desk rose the fat Heim. I had never met anyone so resembling the Soviet caricature of the typical capitalist. He was exactly like an old picture from an old forgotten Bolshevik newspaper: pink face, reddish blond hair, a big belly, small fat fingers, a treble chin, a red thick neck and a cigar in his mouth.
He rose heavily from behind the desk, pointing to us to sit down in low, comfortable chairs. Whew we were seated, he took from the cabinet a bottle of brandy and three glasses. He filled them, took a packet of cigarettes and, offering them to us, sat down heavily, all in complete silence. Raising his glass, he indicated that we were to join him. The foreman followed his example. I felt confused with all this. What would he ask of me? However I emptied my glass. Heim immediately refilled the glasses and, lighting his cigar, said:
"You are friendly with the family Naumow?"
"To a certain extent, only,鈥� I answered carefully, "as I have only met them here in the factory, helping once to interpret. We sometimes speak at the mess table."
"Have you visited them at the barracks?"
"A few times as engineer Naumow loves playing chess and so do I."
"Do you speak Russian?"
"Yes."
"Is Mrs. Naumow a Russian or a Ukrainian?"
"I think she is a Russian from Smolenks."
"Is Mrs. Naumow often in the barracks of the Ukrainians?"
"I don't know as I don't live there."
"Do you know that Mrs. Naumow is agitating the Ukrainians and Russians to sabotage my factory?" He looked searchingly at me.
"No,鈥� I replied immediately and thought to myself, is that where it hurts you?
Inhaling deeply and playing with his fat fingers along the table, he asked me:
"Did you volunteer to come to Germany?"
"No."
"After the end of the war do you intend to go back to your country?"
"Yes.
Heim again looked at me searchingly. Our eyes met. This was the moment when he gave up trying to enlist me as his factory informer. He got up and said, raising his voice:
"I am warning you, if there is an act of sabotage or a riot like today in which you were also active, I will have to inform the proper authorities. Who they take from here will depend entirely on me. I know my people and today I got to know you. You do understand?"
"Entirely."
"Don't forget it and also inform the Naumow family." He finished speaking, crushed his cigar in the ashtray, full of passion. With his finger he gave the sign to the foreman to take me away. This was my first and last talk with Heim.

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'This story was submitted to the People鈥檚 War site by 大象传媒 Radio Merseyside鈥檚 People鈥檚 War team on behalf of the author and has been added to the site with his / her permission. The author fully understands the site's terms and conditions.'

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