Saturday 10th – Jan and Mechelen, Spring 1941

There has been, in my view, a brutalisation of many of the men as we have increased the pace of our operations, resulting in a loss of discipline and self-control, and an increase in the number of incidents of moral irresponsibility and depravity, such that they have almost become the norm in some units.

In the early days of the actions, when the actions themselves were relatively rare – certainly as compared to the schedule we are operating to now – there was time after each action for reflection and rest (as well as for carousing and alcohol-induced oblivion – many of the men found this a necessity, given the toughness of the work, and the need for hardened nerves). Now, there are three or four actions every week (we also have to travel some distance in trucks between actions), and there is far less time for the men to recover and recollect themselves after each operation. The effect on their nerves, and on their levels of fatigue is clearly detrimental: there are many cases of severe headaches, tiredness, stomach problems, back problems, nervous exhaustion and so on – all the usual symptoms and side effects of men who are being stretched too far. These nervous complaints, and the moral weaknesses that accompany them in the field, have been spreading like a contagious virus amongst our precious manpower, so that casual torture, cruelty and unsanctioned murder have become commonplace. Worse still, these kind of bestial instincts are increasingly attracting tacit official sanction, in the sense that they are now part of many units’ normal repertoire of operational behaviours, and in the sense that senior officers neither condemn nor forbid these kind of activities. The perpetrators of these casual acts of violence and brutality therefore assume that they are fully justified in the behaviour, since it is in line with the general principles of our ‘Slavic expulsion’ policy as well as being tacitly approved through the senior officers’ silence.

It’s ironic to recall an incident that happened early in the campaign, when we were garrisoned in G_berg. This incident occurred in late August. One evening in August, the Duty Officer received reports of shooting in the old town. I was dispatched with my unit to support the local police commander in his investigations.

The old town lay between the Church of St. Mary and the river, and was replete with gardens and treed avenues. There was also the site of a ruined castle on one of the grassy slopes above the river, complete with residual stone walls and a complex of ditches and ramparts. It was here that the shooting was apparently taking place. We arrived at the castle complex and could hear the shooting for ourselves: regular rifle fire, punctuated by other small arms discharges, and occasional automatic weapon fire. The automatic weapons were significant, since they suggested the presence of regular troops from our armed forces. And so it proved.

There were army regulars interspersed amongst the crowd of civilians and militia types who were assembled on the grass in the summer evening sunlight. The light was still glittering on the river, and on the metal railings on the bridge. Swallows were flying overhead, their wings and tails flicking as they darted here and there after the evening’s rich harvest of insects. There was another volley of rifle fire as I led my soldiers towards the crowd, who were in shirtsleeves and who were mainly facing away from us, towards the castle precincts at the far end of the grassed area. We pushed through the crowd, and saw that they were watching the execution of some Slavs: they were being lined up on the edge of the castle ditch and shot by a mixed group of civilians and our own regular troops (participating in this kind of unofficial action was against regulations, of course). Any Slavs who had survived the shooting were finished off in the ditch by men with automatic weapons and pistols. There were about a hundred and fifty Slavs sitting on the grass slope nearest the river, hands on their heads, awaiting their turn at the ditch.

As we watched, the next volley of rifle fire toppled the latest batch of ten Slavs into the ditch, and the crowd laughed and cheered and shouted its approval. Many of the crowd were drinking wine or beer or spirits from bottles, and some of the regular troops were also drinking alcohol. (This was not unusual in itself during the course of official actions, but it was obviously unseemly for our soldiers to be seen behaving in such a way alongside civilians and other irregular elements.) I also saw some of these regular troops handing their weapons to civilians and militia men so that they could participate in the shootings.

I approached the only regular NCO that I could see and asked him if there were any of his officers present. He told me that there were not. I told him to order his men to retrieve all of their weapons and report to me. When they had done so, I noted down the units, ranks and names of these twenty three soldiers so that I could report their behaviour to their senior commander. Subsequently there was a mass assembly of all local units (a few days after this unfortunate evening shooting incident), which was addressed by General T from the High Command. He reminded our soldiers of their duty to adhere to regulations, and to conform to the standards of behaviour that were becoming for professional soldiers. It was tempting, he acknowledged, to engage in these informal activities, but it was also essential that we maintain our discipline and our emotional distance from the local populations who were – understandably – keen to take their revenge on the people who had tormented and exploited them for so long. Any involvement in the kind of “wildness” witnessed in the castle precincts would was a “threat to good discipline and order”, and to the maintenance of the proper relations between the army and the local population. Any repeat of this behaviour would be viewed “extremely harshly” by the High Command.

When I think back to that incident, it seems like a hundred years ago.

(c. 1030 words)