Source
D
...and
how we make them like that
When an instructor blows a whistle, we have to start
building dug-outs. There are about a dozen of us, each with a
spade. And we all start to dig like lunatics.
Because in front of
us are ten Benz armoured cars waiting, their engines slowly ticking over.
We have twenty
minutes to dig the hole which will shelter us. Which will save
our lives. It's every man for himself. We aren't
comrades any more ...
Never mind, I must dig and dig and dig.
I can hear an engine revving up. It is a
sinister and menacing sound. This is it. They're
moving off, advancing, straight ahead. The drivers have been
ordered to take no notice of anybody clumsy or foolish enough to get in
the way. They thunder towards our dug-outs.
With wild shouts the boys jump into the holes they have
dug, burrowing into the earth, burying their faces against the damp clay.
In front of me, like some monster in a nightmare, the
Benz lumbers forward, its engine roaring.
It's getting bigger and bigger,
and bigger still...
They're past.
Of course, some of our chaps are
killed. But none are cowards.
Thus do we learn courage - at the
risk of our lives.
Boys
marked out to be future Party Leaders were sent to special training camps
called Ordensburgen. This description of the kind of
thing they did is from P Neumann, Other
Men's Graves (1958).
I
find the words: 'of course...' the most amazing thing about this amazing
extract.