Wehrmacht Diary: The Story of Siegfried Knappe (1936-1999)

By Wolfgang Cooper

In the beginning, I was so proud of my country and what I thought we were accomplishing. Yet by 1943, I knew the Nazi government was leading Germany and the world down a path of destruction.

Not in my wildest dreams did I think I would someday be standing in the basement of the Fuhrer Bunker preparing to shoot Adolf Hitler.

- Siegfried Knappe

WEHRMACT DIARY is a fascinating and true story that offers a unique look at the German side of World War II - and a world in ruins.

In WEHRMACHT DIARY, writer Wolfgang Cooper and Siegfried Knappe, who rose through the ranks of the General Staff College to become a highly respected major in the Wehrmacht, give the reader a reflective and illuminating perspective on Knappes experiences as a German soldier who served on every major battle front in the European theater of war.

This unique and timely book chronicles the life of an ordinary man who found himself caught in the middle of extraordinary world events - and how he survived to start a new life in America.

But most importantly, Siegfried Knappe, a long-time resident of Xenia, Ohio, is one of the few people alive today who met Adolf Hitler face to face. In fact, he met the German dictator three times - in six year intervals.

The first time was in 1933 when Knappe was an apolitical, teenage shutterbug, intent only on photographing Germanys new Chancellor pulling up outside a hotel in Knappes hometown of Leipzig. The young Knappe ignored Hitlers chauffeur, hopped onto the running board of the open limousine - and snapped off three frames. Over sixty years later, Knappe still has the pictures.

The second time Knappe came face to face with Hitler was in early 1939. Knappe was by then a junior artillery officer at Kriegsschule Potsdam, a military academy where he trained under legendary Field Marshall Erwin Rommel. Knappe was being congratulated for his war college performance by the Fuhrer at a formal Reich Chancellory reception in Berlin. Recognition for his exemplary achievements at Potsdam would promote Knappes advancement up the ranks throughout his military career.

The third time he met with Hitler was almost six years later and in the same building. It was April 1945. As a top aide to General Helmut Weidling - the commander of Berlins final defenses - Major Knappe waited outside the briefing room in the Fuhrer bunker. The Red Army was only 500 meters away, clawing its way toward the bunker and the final destruction of the Third Reich.

Outside, Berlin was a world of smoke, fire, death, and horror, recalled Knappe. Inside, protocol dictated that Major Knappe be presented by his commander to Hitler and Minister of Propaganda, Joseph Goebbels.

I saluted, and Hitler walked toward me. As he neared, I was shocked by his appearance. He looked very old, at least 20 years older than his 56 years, remembers Knappe.

The major was shaken. Like so many in Germany, he had given his youth to a leader who stood for the nation. Now Knappe could see that Hitler physically resembled his country - withered, defeated, cursed. Major Knappe decided to shoot Hitler the next morning. On that last day in the bunker, he stood near Hitler, coolly calculating pistol range - only to change his mind. Let Hitler martyr himself, Knappe decided. After Knappe surrendered to the Russians, he realized that the Fuhrer had inadvertently saved his life.

Major Knappe had become an eyewitness - an eyewitness who would live to tell his incredible story.

@ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @

All history, granted a wide enough perspective, is merely irony. The ironies of Siegfried Knappes life are beyond number:

He survived five years of combat, including four serious wounds, three tours on the dreaded Eastern front, and the final Allied assault on Berlin.

He helped negotia

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: May 4, 2000
• ISBN: 9781462828173

Wolfgang Cooper

· A graduate of Ohio University, Wolfgang Cooper has over 20 years experience in the television, radio and video production industry. Having worked as a writer, producer, and a sports and news anchor, he is currently Vice-President of Marketing for a post-production firm which specializes in high-end graphics and videotape editing. · Siegfried Knappe, after his release from the Soviet Union, made his way to West Germany, and then to the United States. Settling with his family in Xenia, Ohio, he worked for 23 years in the international division of National Cash Register. He retired in 1983 at the age of 66.

Book preview

PART I

BEGINNINGS

1936—1939

1

It had been a wonderful dream. Siegfried and Lilo Knappe, along with their young son, Klaus, were vacationing in the idyllic surroundings of Lake Constance, near the German-Swiss border. The sun glistened off the surrounding mountains, soothing them with its warmth. While Lilo and Siegfried held hands and sipped mineral water, Klaus smiled and waved at them as he played with a group of children near the water’s edge. Siegfried looked into Lilo’s eyes and felt like he was in heaven. As the dream started to fade, Siegfried tried to hold onto it. Lilo and Klaus disappeared into the haze of the pristine bluffs in the distance. Then the lake and mountains started to vanish. Everything started to turn gray and hazy . . .

Siegfried woke with a start, realizing much too quickly where he was. A sudden wave of depression hit him like a thunderbolt. It was May 1945, the end of World War II in Europe. Siegfried was on board an American DC-3, a German prisoner of war, winging his way towards Russia and an uncertain future. Siegfried reasoned to himself that after a few days of intense questioning he would either be shot or sent to a labor camp to toil in pain and obscurity, never to return to Germany or his family.

While on board the plane, Siegfried started thinking back to a time that held much promise. It was March 6, 1936. He had just graduated from gymnasium (the German equivalent of American high school). At seventeen, Siegfried was enjoying a ski trip in the Sudeten mountains of Silesia with four of his best friends, Werner Friedrich, Hans Liebelt, Rudy Ebert and Ernst Michaelis. The rustic cabin retreat where they stayed on holiday was run by a gruff but personable old inn-keeper and his wife. One evening near the end of the trip, while Siegfried and his friends were enjoy ing a hearty meal next to the fireplace, they overheard a small group of elderly WW I veterans commenting that Hitler was going to land the country in trouble again. One old vet with an Iron Cross attached to his coat grumbled that Hitler was a gambler—and gamblers don’t stop until they lose.

The boys enjoyed the rest of their trip before moving on to the next phase of their lives. Siegfried would soon be leaving to join the National (Reich) Labor Service. Friedrich was joining the army (by agreeing to become an officer candidate after his first year in the army, he had avoided Labor Service). Michaelis was entering university (he was not required to serve in the Labor Service or army because he was Jewish). Ebert and Liebelt would also be entering university to study medicine, which also exempted them from the Labor Service.

As Siegfried took his final run down the slopes on the last day of their holiday, he wondered how the somber predictions voiced by the old veterans could possibly come true. In 1936, Germany truly appeared to be a new land of opportunity.

2

On April 4, 1936, Siegfried sat with his family at the breakfast table for the last time before going off to fulfill his commitment in the National Labor Service. As usual, his father was stoic, offering quiet encouragement. Siegfried was sure he had confidence that his son was doing the right thing by getting Labor Service out of the way before attending university. Siegfried’s mother tried to keep herself busy by moving about the kitchen, making sure the family had plenty to eat. She tried her best to hide her emotions, but Siegfried could tell she was upset that her oldest son had become a man and was now preparing to leave home for the first time. Siegfried’s fourteen-year-old brother, Fritz, was naturally enthusiastic about his big brother’s new adventure. On the opposite end of the spectrum, his older sister, Ingeborg, voiced her opinion that Siegfried was making a big mistake by not going directly to university.

The Labor Service recruits left that morning from Augustus Square in Leipzig. It was an emotional farewell with his family as Siegfried was loaded onto a bus with the other recruits. At seven o’ clock in the evening, they arrived at the village of Burglengenfeld, near the Czechoslovakian border. One hundred sixty apprehensive young men were introduced to Abteilungsfuhrer Werner, who welcomed them to the camp. He finished his short speech by saying, I leave you now in the capable hands of your leader, Gruppenfuhrer Brandt.

The main structure at the Labor Service camp was a former villa that had been remodeled to house a large number of people. After being assigned room numbers, the recruits piled into the building. Siegfried was assigned to room number 7, which had four bunks, four lockers, and one big table with four chairs. He found himself rooming with a large fellow named Dietl, a gangly farm boy named Fischer, and a small red-haired lad named Zimmerman. After unpacking, the bellowing voice of Brandt ordered them about the compound. The young men learned simple commands and were taught how to stand at attention. They were then marched to the supply building and issued uniforms, which included different outfits for work, for parade, for exercising, and for sports. Then they were marched by squads to the mess hall for lunch. A half-hour of free time followed, during which Siegfried and his companions admired themselves and one another in their new uniforms. Zimmerman kept jerking himself to attention and saluting everybody, making a joke of it. His sense of humor seemed to relax everyone.

In the afternoon Siegfried attended classes on the New Greater German Reich. During some of these political indoctrination classes, the warnings of the WW I vets in Silesia crept into his mind. He tried his best to force them aside. Siegfried tried to remind himself that they were learning discipline, order, and how to follow commands. These were all positive qualities, and he felt good about the experience. Following classes, the recruits moved on to spade-marching drills with squad leader Krupp, who was a nice change of pace from the bellowing Brandt. The Labor Service used spades to drill and march with, instead of guns. The men never got a chance to catch their breath. After marching drills it was dinner, singing, then lights out by ten o’ clock.

One of the more miserable duties that Siegfried and his comrades were required to perform while in the Labor Service was removing layers of dirt from veins of coal at strip mines. They had to load the dirt onto lorries that were pulled by a narrow gauge steam engine. Brandt did not accompany them on work detail, although they were warned that it was not unusual for him to pop in to check things out.

The third day at the strip mine proved to be especially tiring, because the weather was very hot and humid. The work spade had worn blisters on Siegfried’s hands, and sweat poured from his body, making it extremely desirable to gnats, flies, and mosquitoes. To make matters worse, Brandt road up on a bicycle while they were eating lunch. He parked the bike and headed directly for the pyramid of parade spades.

You call these clean? he bellowed, kicking the pyramids over, all the spades spattering in the mud.

Siegfried gulped, knowing that his spade had been clean, and that he had strategically placed it so he would know which one was his. Now they all lay like identical matchsticks in the mud.

Tonight, we will polish spades from ten o’clock until midnight. And we will do it every night until those spades are clean, Brandt said.

A groan arose, because the recruits were already exhausted and knew they had another half day of work in the heat and humidity.

As promised, at ten o’ clock they were called together to clean spades. Siegfried’s muscles ached, his blistered hands hurt, and he had someone else’s grimy spade. As he scrubbed and scraped with wet sand, his sister’s face appeared before him laughing in an I told you so manner. He blinked her away, only to have the faces of some of his friends appear in his minds-eye with the same look. The only good thing about the next two hours was that they never saw Brandt’s face.

In June, the Labor Service recruits received a five-day furlough to go home. Siegfried’s family gave him a warm welcome when he showed up on the doorstep. His brother had non-stop questions about his new adventures, and even Ingeborg seemed curious about Siegfried’s time away from home. His mother just beamed. She loved having the entire family together. Siegfried’s father didn’t say much, but Siegfried could tell he was proud of his eldest son.

Upon his return to the Labor Service camp, Siegfried was notified that he had been chosen to be part of the government Nuremberg rally, which was to be held on September 8, 1936. The Army, the SA, the SS, the National Labor Service and the Hitler Youth were all going to parade together in a grand spectacle. Fischer and Siegfried were part of only ten-percent of their Abteilung chosen to perform.

When Siegfried arrived in Nuremberg, he found a second city that consisted of 1,500 tents for all the participants. Everyone was keyed up because Hitler, Goring, Goebbels, and all the top Nazi officials were to be in attendance. Throughout the camp area, Siegfried found young men from all the various services breaking into hearty marching songs. Early the next morning, he was part of a ten thousand-man group that marched into the stadium.

When it came time for the Labor Service to perform, they were ready. «ACHTUNG!» came the command from the loudspeakers. Ten thousand spades were held aloft in the sky. Siegfried was bursting with nationalistic pride. He felt indestructible.

Siegfried was discharged from the Labor Service on September 24, 1936. It was time to move on to the next phase of his life.

3

On October 15, 1936, Siegfried boarded a train taking him from Leipzig to Jena, some forty miles away, to begin his new life as a soldier in the artillery. He had decided to follow in the footsteps of his father, who had been a gunner in the Navy during the First World War. It was quite a surprise, and somewhat of a letdown, to find that the new mechanized army of the Fatherland was still horse-drawn. Suddenly the artillery lost its glamour and appeal. Instead of driving massive mechanized artillery, Siegfried would be driving horses. He wanted to turn around and go back home.

At the army barracks, an Unteroffizier sat behind a large desk. He asked Siegfried’s name, found it on his list, put a check mark beside it, and said curtly, Room 29. He was clearly bored with the routine. Siegfried’s new roommates were Ernst Rausche, who had been working as an assembly line worker in a factory, Peter Wohlthat, another farm boy, and Boris Weinrich, a tall, strikingly handsome young man from East Prussia, the son of a schoolmaster. The final roommate to join the group was a city urchin named Paul Vogel.

Oberkanonier Baresel rudely woke them at five o’clock the next morning. The young men were hastily sent off to perform stable cleaning duties. Siegfried had never been this close to a live horse before, and he wasn’t feeling particularly good about it. Nonetheless, he did a thorough job of cleaning the stalls, not wanting to draw extra duty if the job was done poorly.

The next day the men were introduced to the ridiculous figure of Unteroffizier Max Krall. Krall was a small man, about five-feet-four inches tall, with pale blue eyes and a ruddy complexion. It is my job to make soldiers out of you sad specimens, screamed

Krall. Obviously they expect miracles out of me. Krall promised to make things particularly difficult for Abiturient’s (gymnasium graduates). They were turned over to Obergefrieters, who began to teach them the ways of the infantry.

Infantry training came to an end on December 1, 1936. The soldiers then went into three months of intense basic artillery training. The horse handlers (fahrers) and the gunners (kanoniers) exercised constantly but separately from each other. Even at this stage in Siegfried’s training, he wasn’t overly fond of horses, and he was thankful that he was a gunner. A gun crew consisted of one gun leader (an Unteroffizier or Unterwachtmeister), five kanoniers, and three fahrers. They practiced for long hours, but without live ammunition.

On Christmas Eve, Paul Vogel and Siegfried drew stable duty. That evening they had a run-in with a sadistic Stabsgefrieter named Weizsacker, who was in charge while Krall was away on holiday. He forced them to clean out the stalls with their bare hands.

I will be back in thirty minutes, he said, "and this stall better be empty and spotless.» He then marched Vogel into the stall, yelling at him about performing extra duty. He turned and strutted importantly for the door.

Vogel picked up a tiny piece of horse manure and flipped it at the departing Weizsacker, who fortunately never saw the defiant gesture. They began picking up large sections of packed straw with bare hands and carried it to wheelbarrows, trying unsuccessfully to avoid the overpowering stench of horse urine that arose as the straw was removed. With nearly superhuman effort, they had their part of the stall completely cleaned and washed down when Weizsacker returned thirty minutes later. He came stalking into the stable, looking smug and self-important, like the Italian dictator Mussolini who had been featured in many of the newsreels shown at the movie houses. When he saw the empty stall, his face fell. He clearly thought it would be impossible for them to do the job in thirty minutes and was looking forward to imposing more extra duty on the men. He seemed confused upon finding that he had no excuse for further punishment.

«It is a damn good thing,» he muttered, as a way to save face, and stalked out of the stable.

Siegfried received a break during the New Year holiday and was able to visit his family, as well as his old friends Liebelt, Michaelis, Ebert and Friedrich. Friedrich was now a FahnenjunkerUnteroffizier. As befitted his personality, Friedrich strutted about and playfully shouted orders at Siegfried, the lowly Kanonier.

«We should plan another trip to the Sudeten Mountains when Knappe and Friedrich get out of the army,» Liebelt suggested.

«I wonder if the old veterans will still be there,» Friedrich said.

«I don’t know if I will still be in Germany,» Michaelis said gloomily. «My father is talking seriously about moving to England. He does not trust the Nazis because we are Jewish.»

«God, I hope you’re still here,» Ebert said. «It wouldn’t be the same without you.»

«Let’s toast to the five of us, just in case,» Michaelis suggested, raising his glass of wine. «To us and to the future.»

They all drank to Michaelis’ toast, although to some extent Siegfried’s heart wasn’t really into it. The news that Michaelis might possibly be moving was a bitter pill to swallow. They had been very close since grade school, always competing vigorously against one another in sports and academics.

In late January of 1937, Siegfried was chosen for wireless communications training because of his gymnasium education. The battalion was brought together for the first time, traveling to Juterborg for live ammunition exercises. They were very undisciplined during their first live training drill, although Siegfried and his comrades were flush with adrenaline and excitement after firing live ammunition for the first time.

In the spring Siegfried reported to the office of Leutnant Badstubner, who gave him the news that he had been invited to become an officer candidate at the Military Academy. Siegfried’s friend Weinrich was also on the selected list. They were now involved with specialized training, which included being invited to private dances held for the officer corps to help the young men develop their social