My Experiences in the World War of 1914–18: A German Jewish soldier’s tale
(Meine Erlebnisse in Weltkrieg 1914/1918)
A memoir by Henry Bernstein
Translated from the German by Ruth Bergida
Introduction by Wes Eichenwald
In one of these piles of rubble I found a blooming violet which traveled to Winsen in my next letter.
— Henry Bernstein
The facts as known are these. In the spring of 1943, Henry Bernstein (1896–1945), a German Jew originally from Winsen, near Hamburg, and before 1940 living in the Düsseldorf area; his wife Martha (Maddi), my grandmother’s sister; and their 14-year-old son Rolf went into hiding in the attic of the home of Benjamin and Rie Blankenstein in Soestdijk, Holland. There they remained until being discovered and arrested, along with Benjamin Blankenstein, on June 5, 1944 (the day before D-day). The Bernsteins were taken directly to the Westerbork transit camp in the northeastern Netherlands, where they exchanged letters with Rie Blankenstein and others. On July 31, 1944, the Bernsteins were transferred from Westerbork, bound for Theresienstadt (Terezin), the notorious concentration camp in Czechoslovakia, where they arrived on August 2.
[Here the existing records diverge a bit. According to the Netherlands State Institute for War Documentation, on October 23, 1944, Henry and Rolf were taken from Theresienstadt for transport to Auschwitz, on transport #Et-1319. The archivist cites the memorial books of the War Graves Foundation as recording the death of Henry Bernstein on February 28, 1945, in “Middle Europe.” Rolf Bernstein was recorded as, simply, missing. However, the Panstwowe Museum in Oswiecim (Auschwitz) records Henry Bernstein as having been transported from Theresienstadt to Auschwitz on September 28, 1944; they have no data on Rolf. As we know, Maddi Bernstein was liberated in Theresienstadt in 1945 and reunited with her surviving family and with Rie Blankenstein in Soestdijk.]
This memoir was written by Henry Bernstein during his time in hiding in the Blankensteins’ attic. It was lost behind a wall there until a home renovation in 1993, when it was found along with Henry’s address book and some other items. When I visited Soestdijk during the summer of 1994, the manuscript — yellowed but legible, typed on a purple ribbon, and bound in green construction paper — was given to me by Thea Blankenstein and her husband Steph Dieleman. When I returned home, I engaged Ruth Bergida of Brookline, Mass., to provide an English translation. I have polished and edited that translation only very slightly; it was both Ms. Bergida’s and my intention to retain Henry’s distinctive voice.
The ironies of Henry’s subject matter and the circumstances of its composition are obvious; the reader cannot help but reflect on the final “reward” to the good soldier Bernstein after his service to his country. But even if one were to know nothing of what befell its author, the text serves as a fascinating glimpse of the other side of the Great War from the wry perspective of a humble foot soldier, who by the end of the conflict saw only too well the absurdity of his experience and had had more than his fill of it.
My grandmother recalled how, in 1915, young Henry was so excited to be going off to battle that he leapt enthusiastically from behind the counter of the Heumann drygoods store in Benrath (where he had been working for the past five years). What happened from that point, to the moment three long years later when he witnessed the Red Baron’s unit in action against the Americans, to the weariness, disappointment and chaos that followed, is the story that Henry Bernstein chose to tell in the midst of a still more brutal and costly war.
About 100,000 Jews fought for Germany in World War I, of which some 12,000 died. Eighteen thousand German Jews were awarded the Iron Cross, including my father’s uncle Ernst.
Although the forces of his own nation proved deadlier to him than did the enemies of a previous generation, we are incredibly fortunate to have Henry’s voice speak to us again, rediscovered after so many years in hiding.
August 1914! Call to Arms! A riveting excitement, excitement that cannot be described, only experienced. The German people, united as a single family, was reminded of earlier German war deeds whose glorious successes left no room to doubt that this new call to arms would also bring nothing but laurels and victory.
As an eighteen year old, knowing nothing of the horrors of war, it would have been unnatural not to have had the one wish, day after day, week after week to finally don the soldier’s uniform in order to vent my patriotism. None of my joyful experiences thus far could measure up to the exuberance which followed the successes and victories of our German units. Church bells everywhere and at any time made one forget the little blacklined newspaper ads which reported of another “heroe’s death”. Next to my joy about all victories, it was embarrassing for me when people spoke about the soon to be established peace, because I wanted to have played part in it as well. — Our Fatherland had already been enclosed by enemies when finally, in september 1915 my time came. Together with some of my friends I was drafted for the military service and under endless cheers we took the train from Duesseldorf to Moerchingen in Lothringen. Our destination was the Infantry Regiment #97.
I will never forget the time we received the first military rations in Coeln-Kalsheuren. We attacked our dishes with screams, but our disappointment was huge. They gave us rice with sausage. Apparently they had used saltwater for the rice and the sausage was only missing a saddle to complete the horse. We could hardly wait for the next food stop in Trier to quench our starting thirst and we felt as if this thirst was already our first heroic act. During the night we reached the barracks in Moerchinger and here we received the true Prussian soldiers’ food: peas and bacon. We were sufficiently hungry and peas with bacon were a sensation for any soldier. Several hours of night’s rest and the seriousness of a soldier’s existence began. Month long training acquainted us with our new profession. The body was trained through exercises, drills, shooting, marches etc. to the point of making the impossible seem possible. Contrary to other recrutes our training was supposed to be somewhat more intense since the soldiers born in 1896 were expected to become part of the active army after the soon to be expected end of the war. — so they said — what that really meant became clear with time. After a 6-day vacation the second step of our training began in April 1916. The west front needed soldiers. Since we were supposed to still be kept from the trenches, they placed us 8 km behind the front, south of the priest’s forest, next to Pont a Mousson, where we were ordered to join the 13th Landwehr Division as a trench digging company. Our orders were to build a strong reserve position behind the front. The thundering sounds from the front created the feeling as if we were already in contact with the enemy, and when one day some lost shrapnel exploded over our heads we imagined ourselves as heroes. One of those shrapnels that landed close by became my first war trophy and was sent home as such. On May 16th I was able to help make my parent’s silver wedding anniversary a memorable experience. Back at the company I received orders to join the hey harvest behind the front with some of my friends. They carted masses of these horse treats into empty sheds to let it rot there. I mention this commando because it belonged to the realm of the food service and we therefore received royal dining treatment. I mention food because it already began to turn into the main weapon of soldiers. On July 16th we waited, ready to march, in the barracks of Moerchingen, expecting orders to move to the front any day. On september 15th the time came. Quickly one last card home and off we went. Our bunch of 97ers wanted to beat France, but since we had no say in the matter, we went ot Russia. A wonderful journey took us through Worms, Frankfurt, Hanau, Kaiserslautern, Erfurt, Leipzig, Kottbus, Breslau, Warsaw, Brest-Litowsk until Kowel. Six days on a train is a duty which — in light of jampacked quarters — was filled with strategic planning and gallows humor.
Our transport leader, in unwise planning, had not distributed food packages to us and was now astonished to see that in Breslau we ransacked the food storage carts in which previously there had been the most beautiful sausages, butter, bread etc. But once he was told that we had received barley soup 9 times in four days, he gave us the reserve rations as well. How happy we would have been later if we could have eaten some more barley soup! We left the German border behind us in Ostrow with happy feelings. In Kowel we changed trains and then continued to Wladimir-Wolynsk (Wolynien). From here we took a small local train to Raczin, a small village, about 10 km behind the front. On the way there we saw hospitals, bagages, Ammunition transports etc which reminded us of the war, like the distant thunder of the weapons. It was the time of the Brussilow offensive. We loosened our stiff joints with marches in double time and a short rest familiarized us with an excellent Austrian goulash canon (lentils with pork). Only afterwards did we learn why the Austrians had such good reason to treat us well. Finally we landed in a little forest. A small barrack took us in. Then we had an unpleasant surprise: Our unit was totally dissolved in order to be distributed to different regiments. I remained destined for the reserve infantry regiment 265 with two of my closest friends and 20 more 97ers. We now belonged to the 108th Infantry division which was comprised of the regiments 265, 97 and 137. That same evening we were supposed to be introduced to our commanding officer, major Wichert. We spent the few free hours writing and shopping for food. Shortly before we got ready to march off, we saw a group of medics coming from the front who were carrying a heartbreaking load: 5 or 6 bags made out of tent material which each contained a dead comrade. This was the first time I clenched my teeth and thought seriously about what it really was that was facing me.
Under leadership of a corporal we moved towards the front that was illuminated by signal lights. We walked through mud and forest along difficult terrain. Soon we reached a few barracks and lean-tos in which the battalion had its quarters. Our major appeared, greeted us individually and prepared us for the soon to be expected fighting. The corporal had explained our situation already previously. Our position, to the west of the Russian station in Luck, encompassed the war zones of Lokacze, Swinjuchje, Korytnicza, Gorocho and the river Stry. The Russians had tried for days, using all forces, to break through to this part of the front after several Austrian battalions had failed before. Several German divisions, including ours, had hurriedly arrived in the meantime and had, after the Austrians left, stopped the Russians. Our position was continually subject to artillery fire which was expected to introduce new attacks. That was the status when we took to our guns with our hearts in our throats, to withstand our initiation to the fighting. As soon as we left the protection of the forest, we started double timing it towards the front, the signal lights showing us the way. Bullets were whizzing by with the sound of mosquitos, we continued on using anything we could for cover until we surprisingly fell and rolled into the “trench”. Our new comrades, mostly boys from Hamburg and Mecklenburg, were happy to receive fresh support since there was a lot of work expected to be ahead of us. Since we could not detect a trench in the holes we were sitting in, no matter how hard we tried, our leader came and distributed us individually to the separate groups. Duties were assigned immediately and before we knew what was going on, musketeer Bernstein and his friend Carl Schulte were assigned the “listening post”.
In front of our position was a big ditch of about 100 to 150 meters width. Beyond the ditch the terrain rose visibly for about 1000 meters. The Russians had entrenched themselves on that elevation. Since our position wasn’t even secured through barbed wire and there was no connecting trench for the listening post, we two greenhorns climbed out of the trench, as close as we could to the Russian position in order to spy on the enemie’s movements. We weren’t out for more than 20 minutes when we realized in the shadows of the signal lights that everything over there was in uproar and our first thought was:”Attack!” We returned as quickly as we could to give report and received our first bawling out because our superiors knew about the fantastic reports by brand new trench soldiers. So we had to go out again. When we thought that our nerves had played a trick on us the first time around, we were now convinced by noises coming closer that something was actually going on over there. Soon the guard officer on duty came by who was astonished that we hadn’t given report yet. We were withdrawn immediately and after a brief signal lamp exchange with our artillery, the latter quickly began a mighty fire attack on the Russians. They must have been a bit angry about the results over there, because the first grenades came over to us, for the time being without inflicting any damage. When the first trench morning brought daylight upon us, our group leader would have liked to withdraw his bawling out. As far as the eye could see the Russians had dug an immense trench system that night and had gotten up to 150 to 200 meters to our position. Trench after trench let us guess how many units there had been busy over there. We heard heavy artillery fire to the left and right of our position. Soon the Russian had also attacked us with a continuous barrage of grenade fire until evening, without us losing a single man. But what did our position look like! We could hardly detect a connection. We looked for protection in holes we continuously had to dig anew. Evening came again. Units from the reserves came to us and worked until we had new trenches.
During the night food came, but interestingly enough our appetite had disappeared. Especially us newcomers had not just enough of the war, we also had enough of food! Our major inspected the station and gave orders to draw barbed wire fences during the night. They were looking for “experts” We three Rhinelanders from the trench building unit received 10 men each with whom we had to build it. We were given wooden poles, barbed wire etc. from the reserves and within 4 hours we had completed a temporary wire fence. We soon realized how good a decision this had been. in the early hours of morning, around 4 am we learned from enemy deserters that an attack was planned around 5 am, in the early dawn. Immediately everybody was put on alert. Besides our unit we also had twice the men through the reserve work unit and also several Hungarian MG divisions. There wasn’t a shot being heard. We greased our guns well and placed our ammunition close by. The order was not to shoot until the enemy had reached the wire fence (about 40 meters). In the same minute, The Russians attacked, in frightening masses. Simultaneously, the front was illuminated like daylight which was the signal for our artillery. We jumped in shock as if under tremendous thunderclaps because countless grenades and shrapnels came crashing down with terrible effect into the Russian masses. The horrible “Hoorrah” screams of the attackers quieted down only when the wire fence was reached and our fire started. Next to that the MGs were cleaning up Russians by the row. The defense was so strong that the attack collapsed within 10 minutes under terrible losses in enemy ranks. As we heard later, it was the Austrian field artillery that had placed such exceptional block fire. These first survived attacks gave me confidence for all the ones to come. Through the dirt flying around during the attack our greased and glowing guns looked terrific so that after 10 minutes we surely would not have been able to shoot anymore. So we quickly cleaned them, but for the time being, nothing happened.
In the dawn’s light we looked at the results of the fighting. Our wire fence was ripped to shreds, but it had fulfilled it’s duty and so we knew what job awaited us in the night. The fence needed to be fortified and this time it didn’t go off without losses. The enemy was so close now that several friends were shot down at the wire. Two days later the mass attack repeated itself and was dealt with just like before. Our opponents were the Siberian guard, strong guys, tall as trees but not immune to lead bullets. It was a dreadful thing to see how these people were driven forwards, covering their heads with shovels and wooden boards to protect themselves from shots to the head. After the Russian failures it remained calm for 2 days, only our mine layers threw big and small shots over there which could be seen in the air like warbeling beer kegs and had devastating effects upon impact so that the earth shook in a 100 m radius. The following days were filled with digging trenches. We worked on them day and night to strengthen our position which was to remain in our hands under all circumstances. Since there was no protection against artillery fire we had to build deep tunnels and ditches. We dug up to 12 meters deep, step by step we supported with heavy tree trunks and soon every group had its own villa. We also had to watch carefully for enemy movements because they gave us reports of new Russian regiments. Soon it was supposed to start up again. Since apparently they weren’t going to get very far with us they made another attempt to the left of our position. That was the station of an Austrian division which became the target now. After several hours of preparatory artillery fire the Russian infantry attacked and was followed by the Kosacks who were cheering them on. Due to our good position we could see the entire fighting ground and were not just a little bit shocked when we realized that the attack was a success and we were running the danger of shortly having the enemy in our back. When the bullets started zipping by from the side my friend Schulte and I had almost pulled a stupid prank. We by all means did not want imprisonment and to crawl back to the reserve trenches for 50 meters through the overall uproar to be safe when the Russians attacked unexpectedly. Now was the time to fight back. While the Russians were once again thrown back by our units they nevertheless achieved a break through at our 3rd company where they were caught in a well planned trap and were totally destroyed. In the meantime reserve units had helped out the Austrians to our left and in the counterstrike threw back the Russians. After this undertaking the strength of our opponents was broken. More and more enemy deserters came and we learned from them how terrible our defense had ravaged them until they refused to advance again.
Now we began the quiet trench war which presented a new enemy, the Russian winter. For weeks masses of snow were falling in an icy north wind until it seemed almost impossible to keep the trenches clear of it. In every free minute we were shoveling snow. After 21 days of digging trenches we were relieved and moved off into reserves where we expected a well deserved rest. About 1/2 hour behind the front were the make shift barracks in the forest. During the day we cleaned and polished, then we had a few hours off and when darkness hit the “experts” were once again ordered to dig trenches. So we alternated between 3 weeks of trench duty and 3 weeks of reserves. The cold became more and more unbearable day by day. The bread froze to blocks of ice, we could only enjoy it after our oven roasted it. Thankfully we didn’t lack firewood, the forest gave us enough of that. In the trenches we wore heavy sheepskins and, in order to be as unrecognizable as possible, we wore white snow shirts. Guard duty changed every 2 hours. When we had two hours behind us it was impossible to take off our frozen snow shirts before sitting close to the boiling hot oven for a while. Here I remember one episode. We were ordered to join the 3rd division of the company. During our reserve duty we had had the opportunity to stock up on alcohol which we stashed away for the birthday party of our comrade Sparr on top of our daily Schnapps rations. On the evening of the birthday, returning from guard duty, all preparations for the party were going on in the deepest tunnel and we put away masses of wine and Schnapps in the best of moods. We were unable to stand on our feet when unexpectedly our Zugfuehrer came and quickly needed 2 people to go on listening duty at the 2nd division, where casualties and vacationing soldiers had created vacancies. Of course I was among the unlucky dogs who were elected and on top of that this particular listening post carried a lot of responsibility. How the two of us wabbled our way to the designated post, neither of us remembered afterwards, but after several hours we were astonished to open our eyes next to the oven in our hide out. As it turns out we had fallen asleep at our post and were dragged back half frozen by our change of shift. It appears our friends had made a lot of noise that night, because the Russians showered us with a load of mines which didn’t do any harm except that every time one of them exploded our lights went out due to the air pressure.
During that time the Russians had also exchanged units. Instead of the guard there now were Tscherkessen whom we soon got to know as excellent marksmen. We weren’t allowed to even show our steel helmets and the direct hits already came. Soon we found out where the holes in the posts were and our best shots were equipped with so-called target rifles with which they were able to take revenge on the Russians by shooting through their embrasures so that soon there were no more Tscherkessen in sight. Our post became more and more quiet. When we were not on duty we kept the postal office busy or played cards (Skat). There was a set of twins among us, two boys from Bremervoerde who fought day and night. Both were excellent card players. After an agitated card game we received the news that they were supposed to go on vacation together. Before they left one of them had to stand guard duty. The way to his post was his last. A shrapnel got him. The brother never played cards again.
A letter by my brother Alfred let me know that his regiment was only 25 km away from us. I learned of this one day too late, the regiment had already moved off to the west. So it continued in the same speed until the spring of 1917. Until then it was the cold and the snow that troubled us, from then on it was the thaw. Our ditches were up to our knees in water; We quickly built dykes in front of the tunnel entrances, we got pumps and buckets and gleefully watched our dirty pump water flow into the Russian ditches. One night during this deluge I was sleeping in the tunnel when all of a sudden I was woken up by loud yells. The dyke in front of our tunnel had broken down and the floods came crashing down like a waterfall. Lunch boxes, bread etc. were already swimming peacefully next to each other and I reached the trench wet like a dog. We plugged the hole with sacks of sand and this time it would have given the Russians pleasure to watch us swim. In April we had the most beautiful summer weather. The Tscherkessen were exchanged again, their replacements were Poles, people who wanted no part of the war. Since hardly ever a shot was fired, a few Poles dared come out of the trenches and began trading with us. For Schnapps we received the most beautiful white bread, sugar and Zwieback. During these trades we became alerted to the many Russian dead that were still lying unburied among the trenches. Due to the harsh winter they were maintained in almost perfect condition under a blanket of snow. They were buried again by Russian and German medics in team work.
In the beginning of May I suffered strong stomach pain and went to see the doctor. A chief physician (Dr Adam) from Hamburg kept me in quarters for 8 days and arranged for subsequent R&R. On 5/23/17 I began my vacation. In Kowel, the first inhabited city I had seen in 9 months, I felt as if I was in paradise. My greatest joy here was the delousing institution. If every soldier killed as many Russians as they knocked off lice here, Russia would no longer have inhabitants.
Before I got onto the vacation train I had the opportunity to buy bacon, butter, sausage and eggs, items that were unknown at the front while they were available in large quantities here at the station. For the first time in a long time I had the feeling of being satiated on this ride home. It was a pleasure to be riding towards home through Warsaw, Berlin, Hamburg, especially since my brother Alfred had a vacation at the same time. At the time I must have looked like a bum, because upon my arrival in Winsen, not even my old friends recognized me. On 6/15/17 my rest was over and I once again helped beautify the Wolnyan countryside. In July we formed an army reserve and in the beginning of August we went back to our post. On 11/7 we relieved the 8th hunters battalion which held a forest position together with the Ulenen guard. At that time I met a former class mate from Winsen (Karl Kruse) who fell on the western front shortly thereafter.
In the meantime the Russian revolution had made progress. One of the consequences was that 12/12/17 saw a cease fire on the eastern front. Now we thought the war was almost over, because all free units could now move to the western front. We became one of those on 12/17/17.
Before we said our good byes to Russia, we were once again reminded of all those months we spent there and besides the things I’ve already talked about, there was one more incident we enjoyed looking back on. The comradeship among us was exemplary, every single one of us helped everybody else as best as we could. One of our “comrades” proved however that there were exceptions to that rule. For weeks he withheld our desperately awaited postal packages until we finally caught him in the act. I think his behind glowed in all the colours of the rainbow for a whole day after that. Our food provisions had progressively become worse and we only rarely got close to a mess hall that provided something edible to buy. one day we had the opportunity to stock up on “mustard”. Everybody bought several glasses and a few hours later we had scooped those delicatessen clean with bread. Every now and then we also received a cheese substitute that was hard as a rock. In order to utilize it better we poured Schnapps over it and put it out in he sun until it became soft, and in such a way the stock kept longer.
The provisions department received bonuses for being very cautious with the distribution of nourishment. We got to know about this when we ate “cucumber soup” for 14 days. An old officer in our unit was the only one who was rarely hungry. He had a special instinct for … cats. And every few days there was such a creature stewing in his pot. Naturally I wasn’t spoiled either and so I killed a great weasel in the forest one day. In such moments my sidekick Schulte was always with me. Together we got excited over the juicy broil that tasted exceptionally well. In an Austrian field kitchen we had stolen fat and paprika, we had our own salt and in order not be disturbed by our comrades we withdrew with our “game” into the deep bushes like a dog who found a bone. Afterwards there was one disappointment, the pretty weasel skin had found a different admirer. On special occasions, like the emperor’s birthday, new year’s eve etc., we were given beer and liquor to get us into a patriotic mood. Frequently we heard beautiful, many voiced Russian melodies coming from the Russian trenches but they were usually drowned out by our own roaring singing, like e.g.”Lustig ist das Zigeunerleben” or “In der Heimat gibt’s ein Wiedersehen” (Gypsylife is fun, At home there’ll be a reunion). In the musical realm I learned something in Russia, since I was trained to be a drummer there, but this position didn’t get me many advantages since they only required our drummer corps a few times on marches in France.
We began our journey to the west with mixed emotions, since we knew that it would be only worse, not better there in terms of the war situation. We were packed into cattle cars. This trip, although not to be recommended in the winter time, took us by some of the most beautiful sceneries in Germany. We went from Thorn to Bromberg, Posen, through the Lausitz, Saxony, Thueringen, Hessen, Nassau, the route Limburg, Nordhausen, Marburg, Ems, Koblenz, further through the Mosel valley, Trier, Metz then through Sedan to Hirson-Origny at the French-Belgian border.
We sat in those cattle cars for 140 hours!
It was two days until Christmas. Our good quarters almost let us forget the ride. Now everybody waited for christmas mail which was supposed to bring all kinds of goodies. Unfortunately the mail designated for us was still directed to the eastern front and our good mood evaporated. As compensation we received gifts by the city of Bremen, namely …”books”! On christmas day our feast consisted of big beans with real bacon, followed by beer.
After the holiday they began teaching us the fighting tactics of the western front. Hand grenades, light machine guns, gas masks became our everyday toys. Besides that we had many hours to ourselves. My friend Schulte and I used such leisure time to go into the food business. We raided all the farms and through our limited but very original knowledge of the French language we managed to beg a healthy portion of christmas apples. We must have looked pretty starved because the French didn’t want any money from us. On 1/16/18 we got to know the Champagne. We went into position north of Reims on the Winterberg (Chemin de Dames). What a discrepancy between the western and the eastern front. The path to the front lines was terrible! Through continuous rains the trenches leading to the front positions were so deep with mud that we sank in up to our knees with every step and only barely held on to our boots with our feet. In all of this we had to be careful not to make any noise since the French were mighty on their toes. In the first ditch it looked pretty messy. The ground in the Champagne consists of white limestone so that the collected mud acted like doughy cement. Once again it was our first job to make the ditches useable. As opposed to the Russian ditches these were rather narrow which was a great advantage in the protection against shrapnel. Since the German side planned the Big Offensive we didn’t even think about making ourselves comfortably at home, but we did take care to create bomb safe shelters where we could. Like miners we had to chisel inch by inch through limestone ground hard as granite. When we felt secure after many hours of hard work, we were withdrawn and our replacement units moved into the ready made beds. We were so worn out that we got some rest after 12 days, namely we went to the rest camp Sisonne. On 2/9 we had to march off again into so-called readiness duty, i.e. the second reserve trenches. We knew from experience that this position was much more dangerous than the front line because the enemy always tried to eliminate the reserves and managed this efficiently with the use of artillery fire of every caliber. We held out here until 3/4. That day brought me the great joy of a visit by my school friend Ludwig Borchers who coincidentally had to man an artillery observation post in our trench. His group wanted to get into shooting practice before the planned offensive.
A few days later I made my counter visit in Aizelle because L.B. had just returned from a vacation a few days earlier and had a few edibles to let go.
Now we received orders that a storm unit was to be formed out of our division which was supposed to undertake a forceful reconnaissance advance on 3/9. For this purpose our fly boys had taken photos of the French positions. With Prussian correctness we recreated the posts to be stormed meter by meter and this is where we were drilled. Every man had a specific post, we used only hand grenades, light MGs and side arms. The assignment was to advance to the second French position and take prisoners if possible, since we were supposed to find out what the opposing units were. Our Advance unit contained my friends Schulte and Prior who were to operate an MG. After sufficient training March 9th was coming closer. We lay ready to attack in our trenches and accepted the last good wishes by our friends. We synchronized our pocket watches because our success depended on seconds. Our light and heavy artillery, light and heavy mine throwers had orders to clear the path to the other side within 5 minutes and to cover the opposing ditches within that same time. The next command was given by our watches and when the 5th minute was over we stormed out of our ditches towards the enemy like a hurricane. On the other side, not even all the grenades had died down when we came storming in. The French were so surprised, that we simply ran over the first ditch. Without turning back we already arrived at the second one. Well placed hand grenades flew between them and step by step we cleaned up the entire trench. Some of the French who continuously tried to shoot from their positions were “calmed down” in the same way. Our artillery had been so devastating in the previous 5 minutes that there was no thinking about serious opposition. Several dozen prisoners had to come back with us. If the advance was child’s play, the return was hell. High rising flares let us guess what lay ahead. As if the world was to come to an end we all of a sudden found ourselves in the terrible cross fire of the French.
Nobody could say later how we reached our own trenches alive. It must be the worst experience of any front solider to have to run through a field full of mines and grenades. I think that only the acquired numbness of the trench soldiers managed to prevent general mayhem. We could not be happy about the success of our mission since several of our comrades had not found the way back. Personally the greatest loss was my friend Schulte, the most courageous comrade in the company who was everybody’s favorite due to his good mood and optimism.
We knew for sure that this brave guy had been with us at least half the way back but the cross fire was so terrible that everybody forgot what happened next. Search parties were sent out that same night but without success. Only a direct hit could have gotten him.
On 3/15 we changed positions and occupied the “Hubertus hill”. This little mountain, about 500 meters (1500 feet) in circumference had a story of its own. The fight had gone back and forth, no plow could turn over the ground like the grenades had done. There were no trenches here, only craters next to craters. Finally we had dug ourselves into the ground and built a protective roof of 4 layered oak trees. A mesh of barbed wire covered the entire region. The inside of the hill had only a few months prior been a cement bunker in which a battalion of Bavarians had their quarters. They had been shot down to that last man and we now lived on their grave.
Since the French no longer trusted us we trusted them even less and were extremely cautious towards them. Our hidden machine gun nests held a constant slow fire towards the French ditches. I was on post control at night with our group leader, a dangerous duty since we had to move from crater to crater almost without cover. Bullets continuously whizzed by and from their sounds we knew already when to put our heads to the ground. On top of everything it began to smell like sour candy: gas. We only needed seconds to put on our gas masks. The last control led to a MG nest. It was one of those that had been active the entire day and so it shouldn’t surprise us if the French showed particular interest in this positions, but why now of all times? Minute to minute the grenades got closer and in the vicinity of the MGs the fire was like a massive concert. It was time for us to disappear but the MG had to come along. The operators were wounded and so we quickly jumped in to rescue the gun. Behind us the path was all of a sudden blocked by “spanish horsemen” i.e. barbed wire formations. My unit leader had chosen the worse part when he grabbed the MG by the red hot barrel and burned both hands. Nevertheless the action was a success and we happily reached our oak trees where a good dose of Schnapps restored our equilibrium. However, that was short lived because now began a barrage of fire that eclipsed everything we had seen so far. 4–5 times our hideout almost broke down and we had to shovel our way out. If there hadn’t also been the horrible detonations, the lack of air and the flying splinters everywhere we could have gotten used to it. We thanked God when it quieted down after 8 hours.
On April 16th we changed stations once again, a few hundred meters west of Winterberg in the village of Corbeny. When I say village I mean that there once had been a village here. What was left now was merely a pile of rubble. The former, partially preserved cellars were connected through small trenches and took us in. In one of these piles of rubble I found a blooming violet which traveled to Winsen in my next letter. We stayed here only for 4 days then we were called back. In the meantime the decisive offensive was prepared. The area behind the front swarmed with new units, artillery of all calibers was brought in in large quantities. The front trenches were supplied with mine throwers and we … marched off, relieved by new regiments. First we rested at the Sisonee in the “Dueppeler camp”. This place was so full of rats that we could hardly fight them off. Nothing was safe from these beasts so that we posted rat patrols in order not to lose our precious bread. On 4/20 we had to say good bye to the Champagne. The offensive started on the 21st. Heavy barrages of fire opened the dance, the artillery rained grenades and gas onto the opposing positions for 24 hours.
While we double timed it through Gizy, Liesse, Laon, Lafere, Crepy, Chauny, Ham, Nesle, Chaulnes, Lihon, Rosieres, Caix, Harbonniere to reach Morcourt, the successful advance had begun in the Champagne and north up to Amiens. It appeared as if the decisions should be falling here but on the 29th the strong hold of Amiens blocked the way and progress was stopped. We had to hold the acquired regions no matter what. After a 7 day march we reached the Somme region. In Hangard we moved into the front row. The French had dug in about 100 meters ahead of us. There were no trenches, everybody dug a whole in the clay ground. It rained buckets and our canvas covers were the only protection we had. In the eerie darkness we couldn’t see three steps ahead of us. To make matters worse, a few enemy planes started flying over the terrain and dropping bombs from a height of merely 50 meters (150 feet) without any apparent plan. Fortunately the all missed their target. Shortly thereafter followed a fire attack of shrapnels that were so close we had to abandon our post and withdraw a little.
Before the next change of positions we took temporary quarters in the valley of Mericourt. Here we had some losses. A French canon of largest caliber sent us its regards. Our field kitchen had just appeared to bring us food when a direct hit blew up the kitchen, horses and human help.
The horses were unceremoniously skinned, cut up and we started filling the cooking ware with them. I could later count it among my accomplishments that I made the best horse-bouillon. Just so we didn’t bear the title “flying division” in vain, we then marched into the Hangest forest close to Cerisi, where we relieved a Saxon infantry division. Until 5/25 we lay in a concert of grenades without losses. A little north of our position, close to Amientierre, was the village of Villet Bretonneux, occupied by Canadians who undertook all efforts to advance again. When we were deployed there the village had already been taken twice by our units and each time had been cleared again. A hunter’s battalion was very happy when they were relieved by us. Two trenches, one lying behind the other were to be defended, while the British had fortified a strong position on the other side, in Bretonneux. In the first night 4 comrades in the front posts were killed by hand grenades, in the second night, the same thing, at the same location. Our artillery which was supposed to support us by keeping the British in check was shooting so poorly that we ourselves became the victims and learned the effect of our own grenades, until finally our light signals were understood. The British machine guns controlled the entire area and we didn’t dare even show the top of our heads over the trench lines. The third night, all of a sudden, the well known call “To your Arms!” was heard. Everybody ran to their posts, with their guns ready to fire. We saw shadows creeping towards us from over there and immediately began firing. All of a sudden we realized that they were shooting like crazy too, which shouldn’t have been possible in an attack.. We heard loud calling ahead of us — German calling! Only now did we realize our mistake. Our own pioneers, among them a friend of mine (Willy Latz), had lost their way in the darkness and were wandering around between ours and the enemie’s trenches until we took them under attack, erroneously assuming that they were enemies. Fortunately there were only a few light injuries.
I had my post next to the machine gun stand. Every few hours the English welcomed us with a barrage of fire, just so we wouldn’t fall asleep. During one such occasion a ton of iron whizzed by in the immediate proximity and tore up the earth. We were astonished when a dead Canadian rolled in front of our feet who apparently had fallen here a few days earlier. Without thinking too long we put him back in the ditch and covered him with dirt as best as we could. The next day other comrades found him the second time.
A field of craters, torn up by grenades had to be crossed every evening in order to get food from the field kitchen. A specific spot was under constant machine gun fire since the English knew that this was the only way to the kitchen. One evening I was part of the group going to the kitchen. Always two people were carrying one big barrel and the obstacle course began. In the monotonous “tack-tack’ of the English machine gun fire the man in front of me fell. We had gotten him to the kitchen but he was not to have any food. During our return to the company several of the medics came towards us with our heavily wounded major Wichert who only shortly before did not want to acknowledge our warnings about the dangerous spot.
The offensive had finally ground to a halt, it simply was impossible to progress any further. Ammunition was sparse, our uniforms were torn to rags and we all longed to finally get to rest for a few weeks. But that didn’t come true. Our gas masks had become our most valued weapon. We had to suffer under more and more gas attacks. After one of those attacks, on 6/19 I started having terrible diarrhea which got worse with every hour. I ran to the medic who immediately understood the situation: dysentery! It was extremely difficult to get to the nearest hospital by stretcher since the entire area remained polluted with gas and I had the desire to jump into a crater every other minute. A few hours later I was lying in the ambulance which was taking me to the field hospital 188 close to Peron. After 12 months the first bed, and on top of that without canon thunder. It was more than a front soldier could have imagined. After I was cured the doctor recommended some R&R, however there was no response from the company and since the hospital beds were not available for healthy soldiers, I had to bite the bullet and return to the front on 7/15th. The company was now close to Combraille in the Somme channel at Capi. Having arrived there my superior explained to me that my vacation papers had supposedly been sent to the hospital, however they had become invalid due to my return since the vacation train had left in the meantime. On top of this disappointment we were now also placed into highest alert status. Attack baggage and hand grenades spoke for themselves. We double timed it to the Koeniginnen Schlucht (valley of the queen). The English wanted to attack. We occupied a height and waited the entire night for the fighting to start. We were given a group of greenhorn units for support. Berlin boys, hardly 18 years old who had never heard bullets whistling by them. The justified far of these boys became worse and worse when we got into a strong mine fire and the first losses became known. Early in the morning I heard the call “Musketeer Bernstein report to the lieutenant”. To my excitement, lieutenant Gottschalk, known as Bubi, gave me my vacation papers with the order to go to the companie’s baggage station and take a friend with me prior to embarking on the vacation train. As quickly as our legs could carry us we disappeared and were already in agreement that we would not even go to the baggage station but on the fastest and most direct route to the nearest train station. 15 months had passed since the last vacation and I don’t have to describe my feelings. Malbeuge in Belgium was our vacation collection station. This is how far we got unharmed and we stayed here until our designated train left. in Malbeuge they said our division was going to get some rest in a few days and we were supposed to report there after our vacation was over on 8/19th.
Vacation would have been nicer if it hadn’t had to end. It was amazing how quickly we had to pack our bags again. During my stay in Winsen a comrade wrote from the front congratulation me on being home since the day after I left, the English had attacked and, using several tanks, had captured half the company in a thick fog.
On the way back I stayed another day in Benrath and then Malbeuge was reached shortly thereafter where other comrades were already waiting for me. To our first question about the whereabouts of the company we immediately received the response that they had been ordered back to the front on their way to the rest station. We were incredibly angry but had no choice but to go back to our company. This would have been achievable in one day but it purposefully took us three days. in Brie at the Somme we reached our companie’s baggage station. The company itself had been ordered to the front but was expected to be back that evening and so we were allowed to wait. At 10 o’Clock at night everybody, i.e. the remainder of the company was back. I had to report from home, although everybody was dead tired. One hour later everybody was snoring. Suddenly out of the clear blue sky the alarm signal woke us up. Sleep and vacation were gone. The curses we used at that moment to vent, are not written in any dictionary. We spent the rest of the night in a reserve station.
Our company hairdresser was supposed to go on vacation the following day but due to a shortage of people he had to come along anyway. All his protesting didn’t do him any good. As soon as he was in the reserve trench a gas grenade exploded. A tiny poisonous shard dug itself into the foot of this comrade. He too was not to see the evening of that day.
The sun was scorching as we were going towards the front lines. There were several English planes in the air, a sign that we were being watched carefully. We moved forward in a long line, one walking after the other. the planes were shooting off colorful flares and before we knew it the first group of shrapnels hit us. We dispersed like rabbits. In front of us there was a broad and deep gorge, the gorge of Estrees beyond which the front fighting lines were to be found. The enemy flyers continued to signal and as soon as we reached the gorge all hell broke loose again. We had to cross it, come what may, and we succeeded. But we took almost an hour for what normally would have taken 15 minutes. Our defensive lines were very weak, especially since we didn’t know the real situation at the western front. We didn’t know that the big withdrawal had already started. We didn’t know how much the American support had strengthened the enemy. We didn’t know that there were no more reserve units for us but we did know that our strengths were weakening. Numb to everything we dug into the earth. A messenger came running and requested two volunteers. One for problem shooting, meaning he needed somebody to reconnect the telephone lines that had been destroyed, and the other as a messenger to regiments HQ. Instinctively I immediately ran to the Lieutenent whom I told that I had been trained in telephone repair. The other comrade, who had already been a trouble shooter before got this post and I became messenger. I thought this would be an easy way out but I was gravely mistaken. The HQ was behind the gorge and so I had to go back the same hellish way. As soon as I had reported to the commandant I received the order:”Immediately go to the front battalion and report that the battalion is to withdraw at 2400 hours.” Again through the gorge…and back. Immediately a new message to the adjoining regiment in Focoucourt which was also supposed to withdraw. Now message followed upon message. All phone lines were down, there was no longer any connection to our artillery and I had orders to HQ to immediately start a blocking fire in front of our lines. In order to get to HQ which was in Baloi I had to cross grenade craters all along the old roman street. I only knew the direction but not the way and it was only when I sat on my behind after a strong air pressure burst accompanied by a loud thunder, that I realized that several steps in front of me a battery of field guns had been installed which were currently firing. I had almost run in front of their barrels. By eleven o’Clock at night I had returned from the brigade. Without being able to catch my breath I was now supposed to find the machine gun wagons which were ordered to the front to pick up the MGs. I found the wagons 1/4 of an hour behind the front lines. But the people there refused to advance since they had already lost several horses through the grenades and the streets were still under heavy fire. When our general heard this he became incredibly angry and, once again, accompanied by a lieutenent, I ran off. Only when this lieutenent threatened to kill anybody who would dare abandon their comrades at the front, only then did the drivers become lively again. I climbed up onto a wagon and in fast gallop we sped all the way to our destination without any injuries. Everything was ready to march off. I was graciously allowed to put my luggage and gun on the baggage wagon which was the only relief I had during my time as a regiment messenger and the following 6 hours of march home.
Thus began the end of the 108th division. We left behind only very few tired units that were supposed to slow down or misguide the enemy. In Vielle ? we had a short rest and then we continued to Courdrie where we had a few days off.
It is hard to believe that we found the time to visit an operetta in Cordire. A front theatre played “Die tolle Komptess” while the entire front was shaking in its foundations. On 9/6 our division was called together once again. Short uplifting words of farewell from the excellency and we were dissolved. The small wretched group was distributed to different divisions. And I got to the reserve infantry regiment 76 (from Hamburg). This was fine with me since the 76ers meant a home regiment for me. Until 9/16 we stayed in Le Cateau and La Fontaine. Word was that the German units in the Siegfried position which had been highly fortified along the entire front were standing their ground. And we were therefore sent to Verdun. Before we were transported off in the train I reported sick together with a medic friend of mine, but so far without success. We drove for several hours before we were dropped off In Sailly close to the Lothringen border. About 2 hours away from the train we were given quarters. 1/2 hour march later I sat in the chausseee ditch with my medic. The doctor told me that we were supposed to take the next truck into quarters and report to him. Long before our comrades we sat in our quarters and later in front of the doctor. we had taken care to have a temperature and trained a dangerous sounding cough. Immediately we had a piece of paper for the nearest hospital.. The following day we were off to the field hospital #16. Before we went there I saw my last act of war. A strong division of American planes circled above our quarters in very high altitude. Simultaneously 5 German planes shot up. It was the war unit Richthofen. Dark red lacquered triple deckers that rose into the air almost vertically. We didn’t know yet what the 5 machines intended to do against the dozen or so enemies, when already the fighting began. A flame appeared and the first American fell down. Two more followed in greater distance from us, while the others took off continuously followed by the red devils.
Our stay at the hospital was soon to be over. The nurse had a good heart and so we had a temperature for 5 days. Then she brought us the news that the hospital had to be cleared due to the advance of the Americans the following day. All patients who were free of fever were to be transported in the hospital train. From that moment on our fever disappeared. That afternoon I was lying in the hospital train with my “sick” medic friend. We were going to Germany.
The mood among the wounded and sick was rather diverse. I saw the entire desperation of war in front of me again. Where was the enthusiasm of 1914? The desire to go to the front had long since been replaced by the desire to go home. The injured asked why they had to have participated and suffered all they did just to return with half their limbs. In this environment I was ashamed of my healthy body and thought about all those comrades who were no longer going to see their home, thought of all those who had time and again wished for a shot of home and had received a deadly one. Strangely enough, during the entire time at the front it never occurred to me that I could be injured or killed. I only had the wish that this misery should be over. And this wish became so strong that no 10 horses could have gotten me out of the hospital train alive if it had meant going back to the front. Our path led first to Metz over Sedan. Here several comrades voiced the opinion that we needed to let the enemy advance all the way to the fortress of Metz where he could be eliminated all together. That our units were starved and destitute was not part of their thoughts. At the train station in Metz we had a little longer rest. Immediately our train was occupied by foot soldiers, field gendarmes etc. who wanted to buy any equipment we could spare. I traded in blankets, bags, boots, canvas strips for a few marks, I really didn’t care anymore. And so we continued on with an uncertain destination. We passed by Worms, Halle, Erfurt and on 11/29 landed in Zerbst Anhalt where we were housed in the hospital of the barracks. In that moment the war was over for me. The more healthy we felt the more we cursed everything we weren’t happy with. Everybody wanted to have had the worst time in the battle field and for hours we talked about nothing but the horrendous food. It was incredible what they had fed us during the last few years in the field. The bread portions that were supposed to last for three days could have been eaten in one bite by a small child. We often had to wait 2 days for the field kitchen food since the kitchen could not advance to us or we could not get back to it. A daily portion of Schnapps had mostly numbed us or vivified us. The best antidote for the stomach was smoking. A single cigarette often wandered from mouth to mouth. Another thing that was especially hard for us was the frequent lack of mail. In those frequent blackout times in which there was no mail we had no contact whatsoever to home. The purpose of this was to keep enemy spies from learning anything about the unit movements. It was a bitter disappointment that the war should take such and end after all the hardship we had endured.
In Zerbst I desired nothing more than to get to Hamburg as quickly as possible. But in order to be safe I had to pretend being sick for another few days. I had already asked for a large dose of aspirin from the medic and complained about severe headaches. The doctor couldn’t find anything wrong with me as hard as he tried but finally I talked him into the fact that the headaches were a result of the quantities of gas I had swallowed. That went over so well that I got another few days of rest. In the meantime money and food had arrived from Winsen. I got a pass to go into the city and everything went smooth as butter — that is , butter substitute. On 10/10 I had to report to the rehab station in Hamburg together with my comrade the medic. The fastest train was too slow for me, so great was my joy at being home again. Of course I first made a stop in Winsen before I reported to the unit in Hamburg.
In Hamburg I received private quarters. Every morning at 10 o’clock we had to report for work duties but there was nothing to be done with Musketeer Bernstein. I didn’t get a vacation pass and so I took off without one every morning in a boat on the Elbe to Hopten and arrived just in time for dinner in Winsen. In the morning at 5 o’clock I returned by the same route to Hamburg. Finally the desastrous 11/19. Daily rumors were spread about the revolution. I has just been getting my pay in the barracks when it became lively in the streets. A whole group of sailors marched on the barracks and demanded that the military join the revolt. Immediately the officer on duty had the gates closed, posted machine guns and I still see in front of me how the young recrutes opened fire so that soon some of the sailors were rolling in the streets. Half and hour later the show repeated itself only with he difference that it now looked more serious since the revolutionaries were heavily armed. The oldest officer did not want to justify any more bloodshed and ordered the resignation of the barracks. I waited for the moment when I could disappear, but at the time being that wasn’t possible. The garrison Altona had not capitulated yet and we were forced to join the victory march to Altona. Decorations and insignia on the uniforms as well as weapons had to disappear and off we went. Everything was quiet until we reached St. Pauli. There the garrison Altona had created their headquarters and before we knew what happened there was gunfire everywhere. As quickly as lightening I disappeared after a bullet smashed a store window immediately next to me. I had had enough of it and this was not where I wanted to fall.
Within seconds I had scaled a wall and disappeared into a basement. Much to my amazement I found several of the “courageous” sailors who wanted to create a revolution. I went to the harbor after the firing stopped through circuitous routes to go off to Winsen. From here I requested a vacation that was granted. In the newspapers I read about the following events which became wilder and wilder. The emperor had fled to Holland and marshall Hindenburg led the units back home in his stead. The cease fire was followed by a humiliating peace conference. The changes in the country made a republic out of our empire. Worker and soldier committees had the ruling power. It was no longer an honor to be a soldier.
On January 21st, 1919, my 23rd birthday, I was finally discharged. The last and only thanks I received from the Fatherland for the services I provided, were a new army coat, a new suit and 50 DM in salary.
I have only been partially successful in describing the multitude of experiences I had thoughout the war years, by reconstructing them using scarce notes I had made. The time after the war, with all its consequences, showed only too clearly the catastrophe this world war represented. And if the world to this day is not capable of re-establishing the equilibrium among the peoples, any proof of the necessity to create a lasting peace is useless.
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NOTE: Henry’s memoir was previously published in the original German in the book Stolpersteine für Rolf und Henry Bernstein by Karin Marquardt (Verlag Stadtarchiv Hilden, 2009). The book goes into great detail about my family’s history during the World War II period and afterwards.
