ground. Work never ceases day and night but comradeship is exemplary so everything is bearable. We, too, can quote Wallenstein saying: “The night must come for our stars to shine.”
And you at home in our beautiful house, you can live in peace. This is our right and due and this is what makes us proud. Just as the
Captain Alt, APO No. 01876 to his wife:
January 13, 1943
I indicated to you yesterday what our position is. Today, unfortunately, our situation worsened again. In spite of all of this, we believe sincerely that we will be able to endure until they knock us out of here.
Should the end be a different one, then may the Lord give you the poNN er to bear this heroically, as a sacrifice for our beloved Fuhrer and our people.
Captain [illegible] APO No. 35293 to his parents:
January 13, 1943, 3:50 P.M.
…I should like to thank you all for the love and troubles which you have spent on my behalf. You know that I have been a passionate soldier, that I became one because of personal conviction, and on this basis I swore my military oath when I was a recruit. Many difficult weeks are now behind us, but the all-decisive hour is still ahead…. Come what may, we shall never capitulate. Loyal to our military oath, we shall perform our duties believing in our beloved Fuhrer, Adolf Hitler, and believing in the final victory of our glorious Fatherland.
I shall never lament or complain. From the moment I became an officer in August 1939, I did not belong to myself any more but to my Fatherland. I do not want to become weak at this time. There is no human being who loves to die. However, if it has to be, then I have convinced myself that I want to be defeated in honest combat by superior enemy forces. With the boys I have around me, in the meantime we shall try to send as many of the Bolsheviks as we can to the happy hunting grounds. You should not be sad…. You should be proud during the days to come. It is still possible that a miracle will happen and that help will come in time.
Our motto is and will be during the most difficult hours: “We shall fight to the last grenade.” Long live the Fuhrer and our dearly beloved German Fatherland.
Gefr. Schwarz, 12833, to his wife:
January 13, 1943
Well, the time has come to be very honest and to write a manly letter without trying to make things look better than they are…. During past days I was enlightened and saw very clearly that the end will be one about which nobody has spoken so far. But now I must express myself. There will be a day when you will hear about our battle to the last. Remember that words concerning heroic action are merely words. I hope that this letter will come into your hands because it is perhaps the last letter which I can write….
I am sure that you will keep me in your mind and that you will tell the children everything when the proper time has come. You should not mourn my death. Should you ever feel that fortune wants to give you a hand, do not fail to grasp it…. You will have to live on your own and I am sure that everything will continue. You will have to take up a job and take care of the little ones. I shall carry you over my heart till the last moment. You will be with me till I take my last breath.
I know you are a brave woman. You will overcome all this…. You have the children as the pledge of our joint life…. At some later date, perhaps you will be able to show them where we were happy together…. Live well with our dear children, embrace them with all of your power and love, take heart from them. They will give you strength and you will be able to take heart from them. Life will continue in the children. I wish all of you a good future with Germany, and I hope that she will end a winner.
The Russian attack continued and the “Marinovka nose” disappeared from the maps in Soviet and German intelligence centers. The
Gen. Ernst Leyser was there with his men, urging them from the houses and holes in which they cowered. He had only four tanks left but after dark, he broke cover and ran forward screaming: “Hurrah!” Hundreds of wounded and previously apathetic Germans suddenly jumped out to follow Leyser in an attack against the surprised Russians. The firefight was a confusion of men and shellbursts, dead, and more wounded crying in the bloodstained snow. Leyser had thrown the enemy off balance for a moment and he needed the time to plan another retreat. In the harsh morning light, his victory seemed Pyrrhic. But the general was delighted to find that some spirit remained in his exhausted soldiers. He hoped to find that again when he reached the last defense line—inside the city of Stalingrad.
At 9:00 P.M. on January 15, at Rastenburg, East Prussia, Capt. Winrich Behr faced the Fuhrer of the Third Reich. When he walked into the crowded conference room, Behr was understandably nervous. He was in the presence of many illustrious men. Generals Jodi and Schmundt, Marshal Keitel, General Heusinger, even Martin Bormann stood looking skeptically at him. But when Hitler walked up and smiled warmly, Behr gathered himself to do the job Paulus had entrusted to him.
Hitler was charming, solicitous about the long flight and Behr’s comfort. When he asked the captain to speak freely, Behr launched into a detailed explanation of Sixth Army’s position. The captain was surprisingly blunt as he told of the dissolution of morale, the breakdown of officer leadership under pressure of Russian attacks, of starvation, and of guns blown up for lack of shells. Behr vividly described two hundred thousand men dying from official neglect.
Then Hitler spoke. With Behr listening raptly, the Fuhrer stood over a table and swept his hand back and forth across a map. Though he admitted that mistakes had been made, he hastened to assure Behr that another expedition was going to break the Russian ring and reach Sixth Army within weeks. In the meantime, Hitler continued, the airlift would enable Paulus to hold on. An aide broke in to assure Behr that sufficient flights were planned.
Exasperated at mention of the airlift, Behr interrupted, “But the airlift has not worked.”
Hitler seemed puzzled, saying that Luftwaffe reports showed enough sorties on good flying days to keep Sixth Army at a level above starvation. As Behr shook his head, he noticed Marshal Keitel furiously wagging a finger at him—like an irate schoolmaster scolding a student for talking back to an elder. Refusing to be intimidated, the captain went on, saying that while many times aircraft took off for the pocket, many of them failed to reach their destination because of enemy fire or bad weather. And lately, the captain added, planes that dropped food bombs by parachute aimed most of them into Russian lines.
Emboldened, Behr made one final attempt to save his friends—Friedrich von Paulus, “Schmidtchen,” Eichlepp, the freezing grenadiers in the foxholes at Stalingrad—and he said: “It is of paramount importance that Sixth Army should know the quantities of supplies that will be flown into the fortress. It is too late for long-term planning. Sixth Army is at the end of its resources and demands a clear decision as to whether or not it may count on assistance and support within the next forty-eight hours.”
Shocked at his own impertinence, Behr waited for swift retribution. Adolf Hitler stared at him. Generals and aides were stunned into silence. Keitel’s face was cherry red, almost apoplectic. Suddenly the Fuhrer sighed deeply
