Authors: Harvey Black
Once they had all climbed down, they were yet again pushed, shoved, cajoled, dragged and organised into files of four by the Feldwebel and four Unteroffiziers (Uffz). An Uffz was assigned to the group of forty that Paul and Erich had become attached to.
They were ordered to face the front. Eyeballing them was the Feldwebel in charge along with the four Uffzs. The officer had obviously continued on to the camp in the Steiner jeep.
The Feldwebel looked at them. In his thirties, with a wide sturdy jaw, full lips and a rounded nose, he looked lean and fit and would probably put any of the younger recruits to shame in any fitness test.
“Well you rabble, I’m sure you all thought your day of leisure, and your taxi ride, was going to continue, well I’m sorry to disappoint you. You are recruits of the Fallschirmjager now and your training starts today. You have had a restful journey, eaten your mother’s sandwiches, so now it is time to work some of that off. Some of you look as if all you have done these last six months is eat. The camp is ten kilometres away and shortly you will make your way there on foot. This should give you an appetite for your dinner, should there be any left by the time you get there. I don’t want any slacking, anyone lagging behind. You stay together at all costs, you stay with your group, and anyone who leaves the group will be punished as will the remainder of the group. Make sure you arrive together, do I make myself clear?”
“Ja,” they shouted.
“The response should be Ja Feldwebel!”
“Ja Feldwebel,” they all cried out again.
“I can hardly hear you; you had better start putting more effort into your response than that, otherwise we’ll keep you here until you get it right. Is that understood?”
They all screamed at the top of their voices, “Ja Feldwebel,” not sure if they were more afraid of the Feldwebel, staying out in the hot dust of this June afternoon, missing dinner or the ten kilometre march ahead of them.
Three factors were pivotal in the shaping of a Fallschirmjager, a sense of comradeship, an extremely high level of fitness and chivalry. They were encouraged to believe in themselves, and although pushed to their limits in training, they would always be reminded that what was being asked of them was well within their capabilities.
Although camaraderie was important in any military unit, it was especially significant in the Fallschirmjager. For the Fallschirmjager it was fostered right from the start, at squad level, platoon level, right through to their parent Regiment.
As a squad they would be dependent on each other and it was essential, particularly behind enemy lines, in an uncompromising position, miles and possibly days away from being relieved, that this spirit was engendered.
“Attention!”
“Leeeft turn, by the double, march.”
The Feld and the Uffzs started off at a steady jog, all in time with each other and the Uffzs attached themselves to their appropriate groups. The groups were a shambles, they were all over the place, and no one was in step. But, eventually, they settled down to a steady, rhythmic pace, staying in a group, faintly resembling a military formation of sorts.
It was four in the afternoon and a temperature of about twenty-four degrees centigrade. Not too hot if you were sat out on the patio enjoying a bratwurst and beer, but not when marching along a hot dusty road with tens of complete strangers and five instructors screaming at you incessantly.
After thirty minutes you wished you had stayed at home or been left back at the station. After five kilometres and over an hour of doubling it was beginning to tell on the new recruits, and some of the less fit members of the group started to drift backwards.
One of their newly appointed comrades, running alongside Paul and Erich, started to slowly fall back, clearly struggling with the pace they were being asked to complete. Each, although weary themselves, grabbed a piece of his clothing at the shoulder or by his waist to keep him going. They discovered his name was Helmut.
They too were now getting tired and feeling the pace. A further hour, and at the eight kilometre point, they were all shattered, hot, sweating, thirsty, hungry, their legs buckling beneath them. Constantly being harangued by their instructors, falling down, and literally being picked up by the screams of their tormentors.
Numerous of their comrades had fallen back by the wayside. When members of a group had fallen too far back the rest of their group was also stopped in order for the laggers to catch up. But, this did not mean the group could stop and rest, they were immediately thrown onto the floor to complete press-ups, jump ups, squats and other exercises designed to further test their endurance.
The recruits were from a mixed background. Some, like Paul and Erich, were from the Wehrmacht having transferred to the Luftwaffe to join the Fallschirmjager. Others were like their newfound comrade, Helmut, who was already in the Luftwaffe and was transferring to the Fallschirmjager. Some had even come straight from civilian life, but had proven themselves in the Hitler Jugend and other such organisations, where they had distinguished themselves.
They eventually marched in through the camp gates totally exhausted, almost disbelieving how every muscle, every bone, and every joint in their body seemed to cry out in pain and throb throughout their entire body.
The accommodation was not quite as they expected it to be, they were just plain wooden huts. But then again, they weren’t there for a holiday.
But still they were not allowed to finish. They were lined up, pushed and cajoled into formation and instructed, and shown, how to stand to attention the Fallschirmjager way, the Wehrmacht and Luftwaffe soldiers helping their less experienced more, exhausted comrades.
A Fallschirmjager Uffz positioned himself at the head of each of these four groups, and standing at the head of the four groups was the Feldwebel that had accompanied them on their march to the barracks.
He was stood at ease, facing away from the four groups, waiting expectantly. Then an Oberfeldwebel, the senior sergeant of the barracks, marched towards them followed by two other figures.
The first figure was the Oberleutnant, who had met them at the station earlier. Another Officer they had not seen before accompanied him.
As they marched smartly towards the recruits, the Feldwebel gave them a warning and then brought them to attention. This in itself was a shambles as they pulled themselves to attention in one form or another. The Uffzs shouted at them from the corners of their mouths warning them to remain quiet and still.
The Feld and the Uffzs were dressed in first-pattern jump smocks, the knochensnack and boots. The Uffzs having two eagle wings on each arm, while the Feld had three. All wore the Fallschirmjager helmet, painted Luftwaffe blue-grey with a single silver-grey Luftwaffe eagle on the left and the national tricolour decal on the other side.
All three Luftwaffe soldiers approached and talked to the Feldwebel, who was smartly stood at attention. The Feld then did a smart about turn and faced the four groups and ordered them to stand at ease. To which they did, again with more of a shuffle than the smartness that would be expected of them in the weeks to come.
The senior Officer, a Major, the Camp Commandant, looked at each group, sometimes making eye contact with members of the group, but none could hold his searching gaze for long and look him square in the eye.
The day was still very hot and the Major took off his cap, wiping his brow with a white handkerchief he’d pulled from his pocket.
He spoke to them, his brow wrinkling beneath his brown, but balding, hair. But he too looked fit, and clearly didn’t limit his activities to just being behind a desk.
Both he and the Oberleutnant wore similar dress to the NCOs’, except they wore a shirt and tie, typically worn on parade.
He replaced his cap.
“Welcome recruits to the Luftwaffe, to the barracks and the training Cadre of the First Fallschirmjager Regiment. You are about to attempt to join one of the elite formations of the German Forces. Not all of you will pass. Some of you will fail and be gone in a matter of days; some will get half way through the four weeks training and still fail and go home. The best of you will stay the course and see it through to the end and become members of this unique organisation. This will be more of a privilege for you than for the unit.
Once you have completed your first four weeks, you will then go to Wittstock, to complete your second four weeks on the parachute-training course. Only on completion of that will you become true Fallschirmjager. But, that is a long way off; you have got to survive these next four weeks first. You are number twenty seven training Company and each of the groups you are in currently is a Platoon within that Company. Each of your platoons are led by a Feldwebel and an Uffz, with Oberleutnant Nagel and Oberfeldwebel Schubart in overall charge. I will also take an active interest in the progress of your training. I will be here to congratulate all who pass, but in addition, I will be here to dismiss those who fail and cannot make the grade. There is no room for failure gentlemen, on this course, at this barracks and with this unit. One thing that is critical, one thing you must always remember. Although you have your own individual tests to pass to complete this course, if you wish to become part of this elite unit, you must remember that you are a part of a team. Teamwork is equally important. You not only have a duty to yourselves, but to your platoon, your company, your regiment and to your comrades.”
Camaraderie was crucial in the Fallschirmjager, particularly so at squad level, where it was vital to each and every Fallschirmjager because of their potential isolation in battle. They knew that after most drops they would be out on a limb, miles and hours and even days away from support and so would be totally reliant on each other during that time.
“That is part of the selection process, it is not just about you passing; it is about all of you passing. A failure of one on an exercise is a failure by all of you. I will now leave you in the capable hands of your instructors. Some of you I will see leave during the next eight weeks, some of you I will see at the passing out parade. They are all yours Oberleutnant.”
The Oberleutnant stood to attention, as did the Oberfeld and the other NCOs. The company was also brought back to the position of attention. The Oberleutnant saluted and the Major flicked the peak of his cap with the glove held in his hand and returned to his office.
The Oberleutnant then took a stance in front of the Company. He was in his late twenties, with high cheek bones, almost Slavic in appearance, and a jutting chin that seemed to point at you accusingly when he looked in your direction.
“Right, that was the nice bit gentlemen, now it is mine and my instructors’ turn. While in the barracks you will double march everywhere. Every time you move about the camp, every time you go to eat in the canteen, every time you go to an exercise or training session, you will double. Any man I or your instructors catch walking, will be punished, and the Platoon they belong to will also be punished. And believe me; doubling around the camp is far more preferable to any punishment you might receive. You will refer to all of your instructors as ‘Staff ’, except for the Oberfeldwebel and any Officer, who you will call sir. You will be stood to attention whenever you talk to one of your instructors. I will leave you now in their capable hands, but I will be involved in all aspects of your training on a daily basis. I will be watching you every day, I will be watching your progress and I will be watching your failures. Be in no doubt gentlemen, this is going be the hardest eight weeks of your life and I expect more than one hundred percent from each of you, carry on.”
The Oberleutnant left and three other Feldwebels joined the Oberfeld, now making four in total, one stood in front of each platoon. Feld Geyer stood in front of Paul, Erich and Helmut’s platoon.
“Right number one Platoon, listen to me. This is what is going to happen to you the rest of today. You will attend the Medical centre for a check up and to be weighed. If any of you weigh more than eighty-five kilograms, because that is the maximum safe lifting capacity of the RZ1 parachute, then you had better lose that weight quickly. Believe me, on this course we will be more than willing to help you do that,” he said unsmilingly.
“You will then be taken to the Quartermasters where you will be issued with your uniform and equipment. This equipment is your responsibility and low and behold any one of you that loses any of their kit! Take your gear to your barrack room, which will be pointed out to you, then I want you back outside on the parade ground, in training gear, stood at ease in your platoon formation along with the rest of the company. Your Uffzs will show you the way to the Quartermasters, but remember you double everywhere.”
“Platoon, Platoon shun! Platoon will turn to the left in file, left turn!”
Another shambles.
“Platoon to the Quartermasters, at the double, double march.”
The Uffz led number one platoon to the stores, closely followed by the remaining platoons.
The volume of uniform they were issued with overwhelmed Paul and Erich. Side laced boots with thick rubber soles, only issued to the Fallschirmjager, an extra thick upholstered helmet, a jack knife, useful for cutting the parachute harness if it got caught up while landing, and a jump smock and trousers and a whole list of other clothing and equipment they would need. The jump smock was also specific to the Fallschirmjager, affectionately known as the ‘bone shaker’.
They took their kit to the barrack room.
Paul, Erich, Helmut and Curt, had been allocated a room in the barracks. Paul and Erich had dragged Helmut along on the march to the barracks and Curt had been with them. As officers, they seemed an obvious grouping to share the four-man room.
They changed into their training gear and went back outside for what was likely to be another beasting.
In the early hours of the morning on day two, loud whistles and shouts sharply awoke the recruits, Paul, Erich, Curt and Helmut, ensconced in their four-man room.