Cimmerian: A Novel of the Holocaust Read Free Page B

head. Partisans were a serious problem in the Occupied Territories of the Eastern Front. Tens of thousands of troops were wasted trying to keep the army’s supply lines open. The partisans did not take prisoners. They had nowhere for them. Neither did the army. Sometimes the partisans, men and women, surrendered or were captured before they could put up a fight. Every soldier had to shoot them. Occasionally it was as part of a firing squad, more often they just shot the partisans on the spot. It was not something the soldiers enjoyed, not most of them. It was just the way it was.
    “I thought so. And razing villages? You have done that as well?”
    Peter’s uncle knew what he was talking about. These were things he had never told his parents. “Usually the roving SS-SondereinsatzKommando, Special Action Teams, handled that along with their other duties,” he said. By "other duties" he meant the execution sites the SS ran at the Front. As part of the Wehrmacht he had stayed away from their operations, but they all knew of them. The SS had the authority to press the army into service and did. Whenever the partisans attacked them the nearest village was destroyed in reprisal. The logic was that the village supported the partisans since they could not exist unaided in the forest. Sometimes it was true. It did not matter if this village had aided these partisans. They all did, the logic went, so it did not really matter which village was destroyed.
    Usually SS-Einsatzgruppen Units handled such reprisals, but they could not be everywhere and there were a great many partisan attacks. Peter’s company had destroyed half a dozen villages during the time he had been with it. The houses were burned and women and children shot on sight, as were most of the men. The fittest of the men were shipped to Germany for slave labor if transport was available.
    Peter was not proud of what they had done. Like all Obergrandiers in the Wehrmacht he did as he was told and never shot anyone face to face if he could avoid it. He supposed all wars are like that for the common soldier.
    “How did you handle it?” Hans asked.
    “I didn't think about it.”
    Hans grunted. “It is the same in the SS. Others have made these decisions. Whether they are good or bad is not our concern, and it cannot be yours. We all do as we are told, do as we must. Reichsfuhrer Himmler has said repeatedly that the responsibility is his. “The Front toughened you. I can see that. Handle this the same way you handled Russia. Obey orders. Harden yourself. Don't think about it. You are not responsible. Most of these people are getting what they deserve.”
    “Most?"
    “Even the Third Reich makes mistakes.” Hans smiled. “Don't repeat that or you will be bashing my head in soon enough.”
    He cautioned his nephew that he must be a Nazi fanatic in training. Instant obedience -- zealousness -- these were the traits they wanted. “Toughen yourself,” Hans repeated. “It will not be for long, then you can go home, get fat and live a pleasant life with nothing more to trouble you but ugly memories. It will be as if this never happened in time. Remember always: befehlsnotstand, orders from above. That is your watchword. You are only doing your duty.”
    Later, as Hans bade Peter goodbye and good luck, he finished with this: “The things you must do to survive bring out the worst in men. Unfortunately, not all the men you will serve with are good to begin with so they do not have far to fall. It may, for a time, bring out the worst in you. In Russia, surely you enjoyed things that repulse and shame you now. This will be the same. But these influences are only temporary. It’s the war. Like a soldier in the front line, you do your duty and when the war is over you put it behind you. Others are responsible.” He repeated this fervently, gripping Peter's arms, and he took it that Hans wished him to remember his own message. Perhaps he had been voicing his own hope. A