Noniin. Joka iikka sitten kirjoittamaan omaa tarinaansa, nimet on jo jaettu? Soldbuchit ja muut on helpompi täyttää kun on tiedossa "mitä on tullut tehtyä"..
Tässä Ewald Kochin tarina, tosin englanniksi koska alkuperäinen stoori on julkaistu maailmalla:
"Here is the story of SS-Kriegsberichter Ewald Koch, Unterscharführer
of the former Waffen-SS:
I was born April 1st 1921 in Stuttgart. My father Bertil Koch (born
1894) worked in a local Sparkasse (similar to savings bank) and my
mother Maria (born 1895) was, as most German women back then, a
housewife, taking care of our beautiful little house in the suburb of
Untertürkheim. I was the second child in our family, my brother
Jürgen was born 1919 and my sister Karin 1923. My father fought with
distinction in the First World war, and he was awarded the Iron Cross
second class as well as black wound badge for the gas wounds he
suffered. He eventually rised to the rank of Feldwebel. After the
war, he was discharged from the army.
My childhood was a happy one, as a little kid I do not have clear
memories of the great recession and hyperinflation. However, I do
remember that my father was very worried about his job, but for some
reason, he did not lose it as millions fellow Germans did. However,
the worries he had to suffer left a mark on him.
Me and my brother and sister played together a lot, it could be said
that we were together all the time. We had many great friends in the
neighbourhood, we went to school together and so on. I remember this
time as a long summer Sunday with sunshine and lots of other happy
stuff.
In the early 1930's however things began to change. National
Socialist Party become - eventually - the only party in Germany. Our
father, because of his experiences in the Great War, especially in
the end of the war, saw this "new order" as a big opportunity for
Germany to be a big nation again. Life in the Weimar republic was
safe but, to be honest, quite boring! We kids joined the yout
organization, the Hitlerjugeng. Karin joined the Jungmädel, Jürgen
the HJ and I went to the Jungvolk.
Much has been written about the HJ, but we saw it as time spent with
friends, doing stuff together and having fun. We had field trips,
camps, etc etc. And everybody was equal - it didn't matter if you
were a workers' son, bankers son or from the middle class as I was -
we all had similar clothes, we ate the same food, and so on. To put
it simply, it was exciting and fun. When I think of that time now, I
must admit that we were brainwashed. Political stuff was poured upon
us, little by little. We learned to believe into Germany.
I had always been interested of all kinds of mechanical stuff, and
when I moved from Jungvolk to HJ itself, I was assigned to the
Nachrichten-HJ. It was a branch of the HJ, specializing into the use
of radios, telex machines, all kinds of message-related things,
clearly preparing us into military duties. Our HJ branch won many
competitions in its special area, and after one of these, I was
awarded the "HJ Leistungsabzeichen", an HJ decoration for good
service. Oh boy, but I was proud of it! As a reward for this
achievement, my father bought me a Leica camera. I became keen
amateur photographer immediately. This incident would later bear
fruit..
My time in the HJ ended when I was 17 years, and I was sent to the
RAD, the labour service, one year in the countryside, digging
ditches! It really sucked a big deal. Our group leader was an
uncivilized SA-man, he kept long speeches about the national
importance of digging ditches and other as interesting. I was glad to
get out of there.
When I got out of the RAD, the war broke out. I was about to be
drafted into the Wehrmacht, but I still had memories from the RAD, I
wanted something quite different. I had been in many party gatherings
with my father, and there I had seen tall soldiers dressed in black
uniforms. How cool that uniform looked - and how much those troopers
were admired by the girls!! So after consulting my father and some
local HJ leaders, I decided to enrol into the SS-VT, the predecessor
of the Waffen-SS. But to my great disappointment, they rejected me,
because my eyes were brown and I had one filling too much in my
teeth! But I didn't give up. The recruiters of SS-T, forerunner of
the SS-Totenkopf Division, were not as strict, and I was accepted
there. I was sent to the replacement unit to receive my basic
training. After that completing that, I was assigned to the
Aufklärungabteilung of Totenkopf, where I became a radio operator of
heavy 8-wheel armoured car type SdKfz 232.
War went on, I enlisted into Waffen-SS in 1939, and I was still
undergoing training when France surrendered. My baptism of fire would
be in summer 191, when German army attacked Soviet Union.
SS-Totenkopf fought in many hard battles during summer 1941, luckily
my unit was always in the head of the advance, not in the rear, where
I heard that civilians and Russian POWs weren't reated very well. In
all my time with Totenkopf, I never eye-witnessed any atrocities.
Summer went by, as did autumn, but Russians never gave up. In October
the weather became very cold. And I mean VERY cold. I have never been
that cold and I never intend to be. We got some warm clothing in
December, and I managed to acquire decent equipment.
In late December, we were fighting in the town of Demyansk, in
northern Russia. After savage Russian counter-attacks, we were
surrounded. Division was ordered to stand fast and defend the town to
the last man. We did not question this, after all, we were soldiers
and our duty was to obey. Weather turned colder still, our situation
worsened all the time. During one artillery barrage in mid-January
1942, I was severely wounded in my feet and left lund by splinters. I
was later told that I was evacuated in a Ju52 transport plane whilst
I was unconscious. I don't remember that, I woke up two weeks later
in a SS-Kriegslazarett in Breslau. Quite a shock, from bloody battle
in frozen villages to cleans sheets and warm food. It took me another
two weeks to recover.
Slowly but steadily, I recovered. My sister visited me in the
hospital and brought sad news. Our brother Jürgen, who was serving in
the Navy, was missing in action. His U-boat had been missing,
presumed sunk, in the southern Atlantic. This was sad news, as Jürgen
was very close to me.
In April 1942 Reichsführer Heinrich Himmler visited the hospital and
personally awarded me the black wound badge, Russian front medal and
Demyansk shield. Later on, I was also awarded the Iron Cross second
class, as I had been wounded whilst saving our platoon leader who had
been wounded earlier. Unfortunately he did not survive.
My lung wound healed but my feet did not. I was frustrated to get out
of the hospital, but I could not return to the front for some time.
Solution came when a delegation of war correspondents came to our
hospital to make a report. I was already familiar with all kinds of
technical machines, so I guessed I could also manage a camera - after
all, I still had my old Leica, the gift from my father. Things began
to roll when to commander of this KB (Kriegsberichter, war
correspondent) detachment saw pictures taken by me in the first
summer of Russian campaign, when I was serving in the SS-T.
Soon I received orders to report in SS-Kriegsberichter-Standarte Kurt
Eggers, located in Berlin.
Back then, Berlin was the heart of Germany. It wasn't bombed very
heavily yet, stores were full of articles, people believed into the
final victory, as did I, although suspicion based on my experiences
in east, began to creep into my mind.
End of the year 1942 went smoothly in Berlin, and in early 1943 I was
asked (OK, not asked, but ordered) to leave for the front. I got a
temporary assignment into SS-KB-Abt 1, attached to the 1. SS-Panzer-
Division LSSAH. This time, they didn't care of my eye colour or
filled teeth. LSSAH was on its way to Eastern Fron from France, and I
was with them. Train stopped in the city of Kharkow, which was under
attack by Soviets. Fighting, retreat and retake of Kharkow were most
probably the finest hour of the SS-Panzerkorps. We had excellent
equipment, latest Panzers and weapons, and excellent fighting spirit.
Russians tasted their own medicine, to put it simply.
After Kharkow, I stayed with LSSAH. A big counter-attack, to change
the situation in Eastern front, was to come. Known as "Zitadelle",
the battle of Kursk was the biggest tank battle ever. Our KB
detachment was filming the big Tiger tanks of LSSAH during the
battles, I managed to take many great photos, which from time to
time, appear in modern books! It is quite funny to see them today, I
would have never guessed that back then. After Kharkow, I was was
promoted to the rank of SS-Oberschütze.
"Zitadelle" ended as a failure. Situation was a stalemate, both sides
were exhausted, but Russian could recover faster and get new
replacements, but we did not. LSSAH was sent to northern Italy for
R&R and also act as an occupation force, as Italians switched sides.
Out short stay in Italy was a welcomed relief, as we could see that
worse was to come. News from home, wher I hadn't been for many
months, weren't good. American and British bombers terrorized our
civilian population. Our little house had been blown to bits and my
parents and sister were evacuated somewhere.
From Italy LSSAH went to Russia, but I was heading for Berlin. My
assignment into LSSAH was over, and new duties in SS-KB-Standarte in
Berlin called. For some reason, still unknown to me, I was sent to
UFA-studios to learn how to use a cine camera! Berlin had changed a
lot, regular bombings were taking their toll, people weren't the same
as one year before. Minister Göbbels yelled in the radio every day,
but his messages about victories were quite strange to hear when
bombs were falling. New promotion was on its way, and from 11.11.1943
onwards I had the insignia of SS-Sturmmann in my left sleeve. It must
also be mentioned that I met my present wife Hanna then. She was
working in the local grocery store, and we two hit on quite
well. Or was it my tunic filled with decorations?
Hanna and I were engaged in early March 1944. Almost immediately
after that, I got a new assignment. This time it was into Belgium, I
got once again assigned into the KB-Abt of LSSAH. Invasion of the
western allies began in June 1944, and LSSAH was sent into the bloody
battles of Normandy. Battles in there were hard, but I did not have
much to take photos of. Most of the time we were hiding from fighter-
bombers or naval bombardment. During one aerial bombardment near
Falaise I was wounded for the second time, splinters hit me in
the "rear", I had concussion and was deaf for three days. Quite
humiliating end for my part of Normandy campaing?
After Normany I spent several weeks in SS hospital in Ruhr area,
trying to get my hearing back. Hanna didn't mind this at all, and we
were married in September 1944.
From Ruhr it was to front again. 6th SS Panzer army was about to
launch a counterattack in the west, in the forest of Ardennes, to be
more exact. It all seemed good at first. Weather was perfect - it was
snowing - and Allied airplanes, the dreaded JaBos, could not fly. I
was moving with the Aufklärungs-Abteilung of LSSAH, filming on the
way. Advancing Panzers and grenadiers. Surrendering Americans,
burning Shermans. It all seemed like 1940, the Blitzkrieg years. Soon
after Christmas, however, weather cleared and things began to go
wrong. Our troops ran out of fuel and ammo, but Americans had enough
both. JaBos appeared in the sky, making all movement during daylight
a hazardous business. In Boxing day (December 26th) my Schwimmwagen
was attacked by JaBos. I escaped unharmed, but all my films and
cameras were lost.
In January 1945 LSSAH moved from Belgium to Hungary. Situation in
Eastern fron had worsened all the time. I was amazed to see the
situation. By now it was all clear that we would lose the war. Only
question was how soon this will happen. Rumours of Russian atrocities
in "liberated" towns and villages were heard quite often. I
remembered the rumours from summer 1941, and could only think of the
old verse about reaping the whirlwind.. There was not much to do for
a combat photographer, as there was no time to take pictures. I was
still carrying my Leica camera, but for the first time, I was also
carrying a heavy gun, StG44 assault rifle. Previously I had only had
a Parabllum or Walther pistol.
Fighting was extremely heavy in the town of Stuhlweissenburg
(Szekesfehervar). We repelled countless Russian attacks, but could
not make a difference into the final outcome. By February I had
abandoned my "job" as photographer and was an acting leader of half-
platoon of tired soldiers. It was not about the Party or Führer
anymore, it was for Germany, for our loved ones, for our comrades
now. It was known what Russian will do to our families, our wifes and
children, if they get a chance to occupy and conquer our country.
For my actions in Hungary, I was awarded the Iron Cross 1st class and
Bronze Close Combat Badge on April 20th 1945. I also got promoted to
SS-Unterscharführer.
After that day, it was just chaos. We were retreating westwards,
fighting the Russians, waiting it all to end. Feldpost (field post)
was not working, I hadn't hear of Hanna for months, and I didn't know
that she was pregnant. She had left Berlin and was living near
Stuttgart with my parents. My sister was living there too.
In May 8th I heard that the war was over. The same day I was captured
by American troops.
American captivity was not a nice place to be, but at least it was
better than Russian one! We spent the summer in a camp in Austria,
then we were briefly moved into former Dachau KL, which was a big POW
camp back then. In Dachau we were badly mistreaten by GI's, many of
us were shot or beaten to death. Starvation was also quite common,
our rations weren't very big. From Dachau we were moved to a camp in
the French sector, from where I was released in 1947. When in camp I
heard that our daughter was born. Hanna and little Erika were still
living with my parents. My father, because of his WW1 war wounds, was
not drafted to the Volkssturm. This probably saved his life. But
because of his connections with local NSDAP branch, he could not get
any kind of job. French soldiers occupying that pat of Germany
weren't very kind to him either. I remember seeing newsreel of German
troops marching into Paris, and I still can't understand why the
French see themselves as winners of the war? Can someone please
explain this to me!
My mother was the one that kept the family going on during the first
hard post-war years. Somehow she got a work with the occupation
forces - she was working in their kitchen and managed to steal food
for our family every now and then. Hanna and Erika were quite often
seen in her workplace, and little Erika was liked by the soldiers.
Enemy country and enemy civilians, but even battle-hardened French
troopers couldn't be bad to a little girl taking her first steps!
I returned to Stuttgart in late summer 1947, to a family I hadn't
seen in years, to a little girl who didn't know me. I had to start
all over again, we had nothing. Germany was back to stone-age,
cigarettes were used instead of money and so on. I had to earn living
by what ever means possible, I was working as ditch-digger (!!) and
street cleaner, to name a few.
After 1949, things fortunately began to improve. By then, we had two
children, Erika and Emil, running around. I got a job from a local
camera store, and within some years I bought the shop for myself."
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