Quote:
Originally Posted by grayrunner
But do people know what fighting the Russians under Stalin was like? Marshal Zhukov's memoirs defends his use of sending
special battalions (suspected of being less than motivated) through minefields to clear them quickly, saying if they tried to clear minefields conventionally they would just lost more men and perhaps the battle. He personally trained his men to 'hug the enemy' Two-man teams with a grenade in each hand.
In Vietnam the VC commander would lay down a mortar barrage keeping everyone's head down
and lose half his sappers who had to run through it and plant charges on the bunkers.
The much better organized, led and trained wehrmacht could not adjust to this any more than we did in Vietnam.
|
Poor Wehrmacht - they've had problems with putting the lives of their soldiers on-line the way Russians did, but they were much less hesitant apparently dealing with lives of women and children on the occupied territories.
I bet their propaganda machine could never create something as powerful as this either;
to Alexei Surkov
Remember, Alyosha, the roads of Smolenshchina,
Remember the rain and the mud and the pain,
The women, exhausted, who brought milk in pitchers,
And clasped them like babies at breast, from the rain.
The whispering words as we passed them - "God bless you!"
The eyes where they secretly wiped away tears!
And how they all promised they would be "soldatki",
- The words of old Russia from earlier years.
The road disappearing past hills in the distance,
Its length that we measured with tears on the run.
And villages, villages, churches and churchyards,
As if all of Russia were gathered in one.
It seemed that in each Russian village we passed through,
The hands of our ancestors under the sod
Were making the sign of the cross and protecting
Their children, no longer believers in god.
You know, I believe that the Russia we fight for
Is not the dull town where I lived at a loss
But those country tracks that our ancestors followed,
The graves where they lie, with the old Russian cross.
I feel that for me, it was countryside Russia
That first made me feel I must truly belong
To the tedious miles between village and village,
The tears of the widow, the women's sad song.
Remember, Alyosha, the hut at Borisov,
The cry of the girl as she mourned, and the sight
Of the grey-haired old woman, her velveteen jacket,
The old man, as if dressed for death, all in white!
And what could we say? With what words could we comfort them?
Yet seeming to gather the sense of our lack,
The old woman said "We shall wait for you, darlings!
Wherever you get to, we know you'll come back!"
"We know you'll come back!" said the fields and the pastures,
"We know you'll come back!" said the woods and the hill.
Alyosha, at nights I can hear them behind me.
Their voices are following after me still.
By old Russian practice, mere fire and destruction
Are all we abandon behind us in war.
We see alongside us the deaths of our comrades,
By old Russian practice, the breast to the fore....
Konstantin Simonov
PS. The battalions you are talking about were called "shtrafbatallions" as in "penalty battalions." They consisted for the most part of the Gulag prisoners from what I remember, who were taking their chance to get out of there and to return to the mainstream life.
If they'd survive that is.