The last time I saw the unit, before they marched to their complete annihilation, was on the outskirts of the bombed out and disfigured city. The city had been mighty and pristine at the start of the war, and was now broken and depleted by it. In that, and only that, it had anything in common with the unit. Otherwise, the city and the unit were strangers to each other, the former only providing a last bit of respite on the latter’s journey towards certain and at least outwardly welcome death.
Natural sceptic that I was, I decided to investigate. I had heard of units such as these before. Men who marched to their deaths despite knowing that they were fighting a losing battle, let alone a losing war. Such determination in the face of certain annihilation was alien to me and something I simply had to see for myself.
“Smoke”, asked I to a very young soldier who was sitting, slightly apart from his unit of other very young soldiers, on an upturned bucket cleaning his left boot. He looked at me, an obvious foreigner who was speaking his language, with suspicion for a moment. But his brows quickly relaxed and he shrugged before accepting the cigarette. There was no grand espionage to commit, no intelligence to gather anymore. All that was left was a brutal war of attrition. Waves upon waves of flesh thrown at the advancing forces in the futile hope of a miracle that no-one believed possible anyway. The soldier did not care that I could be a spy for the enemy. There was no strategy to hide anymore.
One of his friends spotted the cigarette and came over as well. He was older, seemingly in his late-thirties, which was rare to see at this stage of the war. Once they were both comfortably settled down and destroying the lungs that they were unlikely to be using for much longer anyway, I started questioning them.
“Say, you gentlemen don’t seem to be carrying those famed swords of yours. How come”, I asked in a bid to start the conversation.
The younger soldier answered. “Those are for officers. We are not officers. And the officers don’t usually wear them in battle. The swords are too valuable”, he replied before adding with visible admiration, “But our honorable commander does wear them though. He will be leading us in our honorable fight tomorrow with the sword in his hand.”
This last drew a cheer from the older man who toasted their brave commander and their supreme leader. In keeping with the inherent hopelessness of the situation, they had no alcohol to toast with and instead, had to resort to using water. I doubted the subjects of their admiration felt much honored by this offering.
“It is unusual for such a high-ranking officer to participate in such a dangerous mission, isn’t it?”
“Well, it is necessary for the defense of the homeland. This battle will decide the fate of our people and bring us the honorable victory we deserve”, said the younger soldier with surprising sincerity.
“Oh… ok”, I responded with some visible skepticism.
The soldiers did not like that.
“I meant no offense, of course”, I clarified quickly, “it’s just that it seems so hopeless from where I am standing.”
“Nothing is hopeless for those that fight with honor”, said proudly, the young soldier before continuing, “If we do our duty for our nation without cowardice, we will be able to beat back the invaders.”
“Or at the very least”, clarified the older soldier more pragmatically, “we will be able to secure an honorable surrender. Where we are not enslaved by the communist dogs.”
“But you could die”, I exclaimed with exasperation, “don’t you value your life? Don’t you have loved ones that will mourn your passing?”
“I would gladly welcome death before dishonoring my family by running”, said the younger soldier quickly and brashly, “And my family would expect the same. I am a faithful soldier and I will kill and die to protect our land from these barbarian invaders.”
“Our families will face much worse if we don’t fight. If they don’t get destroyed by these degenerate invaders, they will be shamed and exiled by their neighbors for our cowardice. Besides, do you know what these barbarians do to soldiers who surrender? They eat them!”
“I don’t think that is true”, I said with incredulity. I had met the barbarian invaders in question, and they had hardly been monsters. On the other hand, the stories I had heard about the peers of the men I was currently speaking to had been nothing short of harrowing. But I was willing to give these men the benefit of the doubt as long as it helped me understand their motivations.
“Oh, yes, it, is”, chimed in the youth with particular emphasis on each syllable, “our honorable commander told us the truth.”
“Your commander was a POW?”
“No, but he has never lied! And I will die before I hear you dishonor him by suggesting otherwise!”
“Ok, then”, I said while moving on from the obviously pointless line of questioning, “do you think maybe these barbarians are doing all of that because of how your side treated their prisoners?”
“Those are lies and exaggerations by the cowardly invaders! Besides, if it did happen, they deserved it! They were trying to destroy our homeland”, exclaimed the young one.
“You declared war first?!”
“Because they were bullying us and bleeding us dry! You think we should have waited for the invaders to show up at our doors before standing up for ourselves?”
I was treading on dangerous territory now. The younger soldier had stood up and was waving his rifle around. Fortunately, the older man calmed him down and gave me a warning look. We smoked quietly for a minute before I started again.
“Why don’t you try to slip away”, I asked the older soldier, “You must have kids. Do you wish them to grow up without their father?”
“I wish them to grow up knowing that to give one’s life, readily and without question, for their homeland is the only honorable course of action. I wish for them to grow up knowing that to obey their superiors, is to obey the will of god. I wish for them to grow up knowing that I would expect them to die for their land and its masters, just like I am.”
He spoke with a calm sincerity that accentuated his faith in his words. But I had seen the other end of the battlefield, and I knew his loyalty would be rewarded only with death. But before I could reason with him, the whistle sounded and all of the soldiers got up, got into formation, and marched away from me, towards the end of their stories.
And that was the last I saw of the Waffen SS unit.
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