Friesch to Klara: October 1941

[BrodieBartfast]

Hello folks.

This is the second of five letters I have, soon to be six. Feldpost is not at all rare, but I'd imagine coming across a chain of letters like this is somewhat rare given the massive amount floating about on the market. I was originally going to post these one by one in a single thread, but decided this method would probably be better.
This one is signed 10th of October 1941, a little over three months since the previous letter. The feldpost stamp is identical to the one on the last envelope. By now, I expect Mr Friesch has moved into Russia through the course of Operation Barbarossa. In his last letter, he noted that he was not looking forward to it after his experiences in Poland. I look forward to finding out what he has to say, but if the sense of foreboding in his previous writing is anything to go by, I imagine it will not be excellent news.

Apologies for the shady photographs. Using the flash on the camera produced a glare which made the handwriting illegible.

Best regards, B.B.

[HPL2008]

Three months on, Unteroffizier Friesch now expresses less bravado compared to his last letter and places greater emphasis on the hardships of deployment to the Eastern Front. With the first inkling of the impending Russian winter mentioned, he will soon find out that things are about to get murch worse still. Here's what it says:

"10 Oct. 1941

Dear Mrs. Häckh!

I use the delicious gift of an unexpected day of rest to write to you. It is not easy to find time in this inferno of the doom of an army that was indeed equipped to the highest degree. Weapons and equipment are actually good, but the soldiers that we are facing now have had too little training. Still, the cowardly way in which they wage war causes many a loss. However, the losses on the other side are several times higher than ours. I recently witnessed a horrible scene. An embankment was littered with corpses; they had attempted to dig themselves in like moles. Metre after metre, another hole had been dug. This was during the great annihilation battle for Kiev. We had managed to get to the Russians' rear and drove them into the concentric fire of our neighboring division. At that, they surrendered in masses.

Now I am sitting in a Russian farmhouse. The tiny windows let in only little light. It is cold, stormy and rainy outside. On the 6th/7th, we experienced the first snowfall. We lay in holes outside, covered with straw, greatcoats and shelter-halfs. It was bearable in the top half, but the feet wouldn't get warm. For several days, we hadn't been able to take off our boots, either. Washing was impossible in those days. Many of us are lice-infested; very likely me, too, although I haven't found anything so far. And so, life passes out here, between march, action, battle, between life and death.

My longing for a peaceful piece of Swabian land grows to a gigantic degree. The tiniest spark of any thought about the 'salvation' that was to originate from Russia has been suffocated in me in the face of the terrible facts of my personal experience. I will never again care for that which is known to us as Communism. I may safely be discharged from Russia as completely cured. That insight was worth all hardships. I am reporting to you after 2,200 kilometres of marching through Russia. I often believed to have come to end of my strength. Recently, I was caught between two trucks as a thrashing and screaming piece of human life. I stayed with the combat train for five days with festering and sore feet and a bladder contusion. I couldn't stand it there for long.

I cordially greet you, your husband and your children.

Your

Friesch"

[BrodieBartfast]

Thank you again!
It does indeed seem that the ferocity of combat on the Eastern Front is beginning to take its toll on him. And yet despite all the hardship and horror, he still finds the time to sit down and write home. I can't imagine what the recipient must have felt as she read through this.
If anything, I imagine letters like these would have been rather catastrophic for German patriotism.

B.B.