9:12
June 1941 Last family moments. The Germans have won a series of easy victories. Exhilarated by their success in Norway, the Netherlands, Belgium and France, they're gearing up for a secret operation in the east. Everyone is convinced they will be home by Christmas. How could they have known they were embarking on a war of unprecedented violence which in the space of months would leave 6 million dead? The actors in this event, both soldiers and civilians, Germans and Soviets, would record their experiences in short amateur films.
The Germans filmed a lot as well as in letters, journals and diaries. Hans Roth, a soldier in an infantry division, writes in his journal. In a few hours the air will be filled with the howling and screeching of shells. The impacts will tear apart the fields and the roads. Farewell my dear wife and my little Erika. Farewell my parents. You'll be in my thoughts tomorrow. Do not worry. Soldier's luck will be with me. A 17-year-old tank operator writes, The long-awaited moment experienced a hundred times in my imagination has finally arrived.
Am I afraid? I'm too inexperienced to be afraid. Instead, I feel great excitement. The same excitement that filled me when chasing a deer through the woods on a hunt. Behind us our comrades. Ahead of us somewhere hiding in the trees, in the houses, in the bushes the Russians. Sunday, June the 22nd, 1941. Under the code name Operation Barbarossa, Nazi Germany invades the Soviet Union. In the first hours of the attack, the Luftwaffe carpet bombs Soviet aerodromes all along the border.
The coast is clear for the Panzers. Hitler clearly designated the enemy a few weeks prior. The Communist is not a comrade under any circumstances. It is to be a war of annihilation. If we do not approach it this way, in 30 years time communism will be facing us again. The Germans have violated the German-Soviet Non-Aggression Treaty signed 2 years prior. The Soviets are taken by complete surprise.
An infantry lieutenant writes, All we have to do is attack. Forward, forward, and ever forward. While our artillery blast the Russians with gunfire, explosives, steel, bombs, and shells. Believe me, there's no doubt that 4 to 5 weeks from now we will stick our flag on the Kremlin, and the swastika will fly over Moscow. The Soviet Union is a giant with feet of clay, predicted Hitler and Franz Halder, the mastermind behind Operation Barbarossa.
We only have to kick in the front door, and the whole rotten Soviet edifice will come tumbling down. 4 million soldiers, including Germany's Axis allies, launch a three-pronged attack. In the south, the forces attack towards Kiev and the Ukraine. In the center, towards Moscow. And in the north, towards Leningrad. June the 24th, just 2 days into the offensive, the Germans have already reached Vilnius, the Lithuanian capital. A week later, early July, they take Riga, the capital of Latvia. Succeeding beyond their wildest expectations. A peal of bells greets the German troops.
Annexed by the Soviet Union 2 years earlier, the Baltic states hope to regain their independence. Heinrich Harper, an army doctor, is part of a battalion in the spearhead of the attack. In his memoirs, published after the war, he recounts, A crowd of Lithuanians gathers on the roadside to watch us go by. Some villagers throw us cigarettes or hand us mugs of water and freshly baked bread. Here and there, a green, yellow, and red flag flaps lazily in the light breeze. The Lithuanians believe now in a German victory and have proudly taken out their national flag again.
We can see in their eyes that they would willingly give us their meager possessions in the hope that the Russians never return. In western Ukraine, too, the Germans are greeted by jubilant crowds. Persecuted by Stalinism, the inhabitants believe their ordeal will soon be over. In some localities, we even see triumphal arches, banners in Russian and German. The Ukrainian people thank their liberators, the courageous German army. Long live Adolf Hitler. The people are overjoyed. In fact, here in Ukraine, we're lucky.
We're not only fighting the poisoners of the world, we're liberating an entire nation from an unbearable yoke at the same time. And this delights us. A week earlier in Leningrad, the day of the invasion. Despite the surprise, news of the German attack does not cause panic. The front is far away. The inhabitants stroll, make the most of the fine sunny weather. On the radio, Molotov, the foreign minister, has reassured the population.
Nikolai Nikulin, 17 years old and still at high school, is unaware he's enjoying the last carefree moments of youth. In his memoirs, The War Diaries, he recalls that day. I greeted the war, if not with indifference, then with some detachment, like the majority of my compatriots. We all expected a series of swift victories from our army, whom our newspapers repeatedly described as invincible, the best in the world. Groups of boisterous young soldiers in new uniforms roamed the busy streets. On every street corner, singing, accordion music, and gramophone tunes filled the air.
Those who had just been called up hurried to get drunk one last time and to celebrate the departure for the front. Until the 11th hour, Stalin refused to believe Germany would invade. Precious hours are lost organizing the mass mobilization of men and resources, so troops and equipment are hurriedly sent to the different fronts. A young soldier, newly called up, is anxious. I'm writing to you from the train taking us to the front. It is strange and even alarming. The vast majority of officers seem to have been on holiday.
I can't believe it. A journalist on the front at the time recalls The day of the attack, many tank units were still busy changing engines. Many artillery units had not received munitions and the Air Force had not been supplied with fuel. The Red Army actually has plenty of tanks and munitions, but desperately lacks personnel capable of using them. Stalin's drastic purge of 1937 decimated the Soviet officer corps and now new officers have to be hastily trained. Some cannot even read a map.
The majority have served for less than a year and do not know their men or their colleagues. To make matters worse, dedicated communists have been promoted over competent leaders. These officers are experts on Leninist Marxism, but have only a basic knowledge of military tactics. So, arriving at the front late June are disheartened by the chaos on the ground. One writes to his wife, "We desperately lack tanks and aircraft. We have received three tanks and five airplanes at the front while the Germans have countless numbers of both."
Another confides, "Our leaders flee, but they order us to stay and retaliate. The vast majority of us think we cannot beat the Germans." Another protests, "I fought two battles, and it was obvious that our commanders are incapable of leading. All they can do is shout slogans." Attack, counterattack, attack again. The army chief supply Moscow's doctrine, which prioritizes attack over defense. Under duress, they send wave upon wave of infantry into battle against the panzers automatic weapons and cannons.
Staying on the right side of Stalin is all that matters, even if it means a pointless loss of life and equipment on a massive scale. Early July, the German doctor Heinrich Harper and his battalion are already in the heart of Belarus. Our first prisoners. We watch them keenly, eager to get to know the enemy. There's a platoon of them. They sport shabby, tan khaki uniforms, vaguely military jackets, and closely cropped hair.
Their heavy faces are expressionless. The German army began its conquest of the East Berlin week ago. Unbelievable. We all feel the same irrepressible desire to forge ahead. The German army is proving on every front that it has the best weapons and soldiers. Nothing can stop Operation Barbarossa. Barely a week into the offensive, Minsk, the Belorussian capital, is within artillery range. 700,000 soldiers are engaged in the battle.
They pierce the Soviets' defense lines and trap them in huge encirclements, or cauldrons. On June the 28th, after just 3 days of violent combat, Minsk falls. A major victory for the Wehrmacht. For days on end, artillery tanks and aircraft pummel the Soviet soldiers who are trapped in the encirclements and soon find themselves short of munitions and shells. Tens of thousands of Soviet soldiers die under German fire. On July the 9th, the survivors have no choice but to surrender.
Almost 300,000 soldiers are taken prisoner. A German soldier witnesses their surrender. A large earthy brown crocodile comes slowly down the road towards us, dragging its feet. It emits a subdued hum like that of a hive of bees. They're Russian prisoners of war. We cannot see the end of the column. As they approach, we are overwhelmed by their terrible sickening stench. Hitler draws attention to the great victory at Minsk by being filmed in a plane flying over the destroyed city. The message is clear.
The Red Army has just suffered a decisive defeat. He shares his optimism with his generals. The war in the East is pretty much won. The Bolshevik Army will never recover from these defeats. But in Ukraine, on the southern front, the situation is far from under control. No lightning attacks or huge encirclements here. With the Soviet's stiff resistance, every small amount of progress comes at the expense of heavy casualties.
Hans Rohde is on the front line. A printer in civilian life, married, and the father of a 5-year-old girl, he's 31. In his journal, published posthumously, he describes his entry into Lutsk, a town in western Ukraine. Over 100 men, political prisoners no doubt, were slaughtered like cattle by the Red Army prior to its retreat. [cough] All of a sudden a comrade flashes a few Red Army soldiers out of their hiding place. He finds some Jews, too. We give them a solo gun performance, which echoes around the prison and sends the scum straight to hell. For the soldiers of the Wehrmacht, high on Nazi propaganda, the Jewish Bolshevist clique has turned
the Soviet people against Germany. The political commissars, obviously Jews, they're sure of it, fanaticize the Red Army soldiers through terror. They've been ordered not to treat them as of war, but to systematically shoot them. Behind the front line in the territories occupied by the Germans the same macabre scenario is repeated. Assisted by the Wehrmacht the Einsatzgruppen death squads massacre the Jews. Initially only the men and encourage local militia to carry out violent pogroms.
30,000 Jews are murdered in the first week of the invasion alone. A death squad commander reports to his superiors. It is quite astonishing how ill-informed the Jews are about our attitude towards them. A young girl recounts a conversation between her father and a Jewish friend en route to an assembly point. My father advised a Jewish friend who had been summoned by the Germans to hide in the forest as quickly as possible. The latter replied, "They're sending us to Palestine." My father retorted that wherever the Germans have been, they have killed all the Jews. But our neighbor went on, "The Germans are a people of great culture.
They will not lie to us. It is the Bolsheviks who lie constantly." In Kiev, the Wehrmacht is just 100 km away. The citizens start to feel scared. Irina Khoroshunova is a painter and scenographer, but because of the war, she's had to take a job as a librarian. In her journal, published with the title Kiev Diaries, she writes, "People have gone mad. Their faces all express the same desire to flee, as if there were a plague or leprosy epidemic. The sight of party members cramming into their vehicles, pianos, big mirrors, and wardrobes, on which their wives and children are seated, only adds to the
widespread panic. Pieces of paper flutter in the Kiev sky. Archives are burned. I try to remain calm in this atmosphere of general chaos, but I give in to fear, and like everyone else, I'm prepared to go anywhere, just as long as I can flee. In Moscow, too, anxiety is mounting. The Red Army suffers defeat after defeat. And Stalin has not spoken since the invasion began. Wild rumors circulate. Has he fled? Has he been overthrown? The supreme leader must urgently show he is still in control. On the morning of July the 3rd, the news spreads.
Stalin is to make a radio address. In factories, rail stations, stores, kolkhozes, and the main streets of every town and city, life comes to an abrupt halt as the nation hangs onto every word blaring from the loudspeakers. For the first time ever, Stalin addresses the Soviets as partners and requests their help. He knows that the people will not fight for the survival of the Bolshevist regime. Instead, he appeals to their nationalism. A great patriotic war, named after Russia's war against Napoleon, will liberate the country from the fascist invaders.
The country's educated urban youth is particularly touched by this appeal. This is so of Georgy Efron, the 16-year-old son of the poet Marina Tsvetaeva, who kept a diary until his death at the front in 1943. The Soviet state has persecuted his family, and yet he feels his place is behind Stalin. Stalin said would be beaten, just as Napoleon and Wilhelm were. And that no army is invincible. I believe that the war the Nazis are waging against the USSR is the beginning of their end. At least we know who the enemy is.
I have always been anti-Nazi and have always seen the Third Reich as the enemy. A young compatriot echoes these sentiments. Stalin spoke to us, addressing us as his brothers and sisters. And everyone suddenly forgot their resentment. We had an uncle who was imprisoned in a gulag, but mother said, "First let's defend the motherland. The rest can wait." The Great Patriotic War becomes the focus of Stalin's propaganda. Painters are hired to produce posters to the glory of the Red Army.
The soldier at the front becomes the ultimate role model, courageous, willing to sacrifice everything for the motherland. But Soviet propaganda also glorifies the soldiers of the home front, the nation's workers. Their efforts must be focused on one goal, increase productivity. More machine guns, shells, and tanks to replace the phenomenal amount of equipment already lost. Comrade Stalin keeps an eye on things. It is said he recorded all the production figures in his little leather notebook.
Late July, the tanks that have just rolled off the production line are deployed at the front. They're not sophisticated like the German tanks, but are sturdy and more powerful. New units are ordered to launch into counterattacks that are poorly coordinated and costly in terms of human lives. However, for the first time, the Soviets managed to slow the German spectacular progress. July the 24th, Joseph Goebbels, the Reich Propaganda Minister, writes in his diary, "It is gradually becoming clear that the Eastern Campaign is no stroll to Moscow."
One month into the offensive, Operation Barbarossa is far from the triumph Germany had hoped for. The Bolshevik regime has not collapsed. The Red Army puts up unexpected resistance. The Wehrmacht's progress is slowed. The specter of a prolonged war looms in everyone's mind. General Gotthard Heinrici commands an infantry corps on the central front. He writes to his wife every day. His letters were published after the war.
We have the impression that even if Moscow is captured, the war will continue somewhere else in this endless country. The panzers lightning attacks at the start of the offensive have left the infantry far behind. To catch up, they have to make a forced march in the heat and dust. Our pace is extreme. We barely had time to eat. And we dare not even think about sleep. During our rare breaks, we drag ourselves about on our rubbery legs. The sun beats down mercilessly on our heads. The dust is so thick that I cannot see the person in front of me. My eyes sting and burn.
This dirt gets into everything. In one of his July letters, General Heinrici expresses his alarm. At each stop, my men drop to the ground like flies and sleep in the shade of their vehicles, surrounded by dust. Water is as precious as gold. Yesterday, I found a wagoner slumped against his horse, sleeping on his feet as if dead. The extreme nervous tension comes not only from the ever-changing situation, but also from the danger for all of being attacked. Cut off from the protection of the panzers and scattered in the vastness of the Soviet Union, the small German units fall into ambushes, especially at the rear.
The assailants are Red Army soldiers who've escaped the huge encirclements and taken refuge in the forests and marshes. The majority attack isolated convoys simply to get food, but a few continue to fight. Private Willy Peter Reese has just joined his battalion. An aspiring writer, the young soldier kept a diary until his death on the Eastern Front, which was published posthumously as A Stranger to Myself. Eight of our soldiers were sleeping in a secluded house on the edge of the village when the Russians surrounded it. Two jumped out of the window and were shot on the spot.
Two got up, half asleep, and were killed when the enemy entered the house. Another was sleeping in the hayloft and had a panic attack. [snorts] The remaining soldier hid behind a sideboard. The Russians lit matches but did not manage to find him in the dark. The following day, one of our soldiers chucked a crate of hand grenades at 100 Russian prisoners and shot the survivors with a submachine gun.
Constant insecurity, disorientation, disgust, hatred, resentment, need for vengeance. This flammable mix is rendered explosive by the criminal orders of March 1941 which instructed the Wehrmacht how to behave towards civilians. Collective reprisals are allowed. Amnesty is guaranteed to any soldier committing war crimes. Orders are given to the army to work closely with the Einsatzgruppen, the special units at the rear that methodically murdered the Reich's enemies, political opponents, resistance fighters, and Jews. Early August, Soviet propaganda glorifies the model soldier, the successes of the Red Army, and of the Great Patriotic War. But in the field, the troops pay a high price for these minor victories.
Hundreds of thousands dead, countless wounded. The feeling of being cannon fodder for incompetent commanders. As a result, soldiers surrender in droves. For Stalin, all opposition must be nipped in the bud. Nikolai Nikulin, who signed up for idealistic reasons, witnesses the crackdown during his basic training. He recounts in his memoirs, "The lads of the division were made to line up in the square in front of the barracks. We were told to stand to attention as two men without belts were brought outside. The captain read out a document to them.
They were sentenced to death for desertion. Before we even realized what was happening, they were summarily shot without any form of trial. In fact, the two executed lads had simply left without permission to visit their families. But they were publicly shot in order to reinforce discipline. During the summer of 1941, terror infiltrates every echelon. The political commissars at the front are encouraged to report any officer or soldier with a suspicious attitude. Detachments of soldiers are deployed behind the fighting troops to shoot anyone who retreats.
A new decree, order number 270, introduces a particularly cruel form of blackmail. Any soldier who is captured will be considered a traitor, and their family will be subjected to automatic arrest. The soldiers have no choice but to fight to the death. Behind the lines, too, in Moscow, Leningrad, and Kiev, hordes of spies from the NKVD, the secret police, are on the lookout for saboteurs in the rear, panic-mongers, defeatists, in a word, the enemy within. The slightest criticism can lead to the gulag. In her library in Kiev, Irina Karachunova can feel Stalin's iron grip tightening.
She's all the more worried because during the purge of 1937, her mother was executed after being denounced. Arrests are increasing. People see spies, saboteurs, and traitors everywhere. Adults and even children take all those they consider suspicious to the NKVD's offices. Being very well dressed is suspicious. Being badly dressed is equally so. I know that this has already led to terrible mistakes.
Are any of those arrested genuinely guilty? It's hard to say. Suspicion spreads. Self-censorship increases. The only modes of expression possible are rumors, diaries, and solitary anger. Young Nikolai Nikolin's war diaries are peppered with cries of anger. An order is given. A hill must be taken. The regiment launches an attack and continues the offensive for weeks with huge daily losses. "This massacre must end," cries an officer. "They have a concrete fortress, and all we have is a pathetic little cannon.
Instantly, a snitch. There are plenty in each section. Reports to the political instructor. He questioned our victory in the presence of our soldiers. His name is immediately written on a document that has already been filled in. And the culprit is either shot or sent to a small disciplinary battalion. Which amounts to the same thing. Mid-August, Hitler is filmed visiting the headquarters of Army Group Center. Operation Barbarossa is marking time. With German forces attacking along three axes, it is impossible to deal the decisive blow.
The generals think they should converge on Moscow, the nerve center of the communist regime. But aware this is where the Soviets have concentrated the bulk of their troops, Hitler intends to take them by surprise and attack where they least expect it. In the south, east of Kiev. By encircling the Soviet forces, on August the 25th, Army Group Center's panzers sweep towards Kiev. The same day, the tanks of the Army Group South race to meet them through a sea of ripe wheat. Hitler is a step closer to his goal of expanding the Reich eastwards to gain Lebensraum, or living space, which he believes the Germans are entitled to.
It is inconceivable that a higher people should painfully exist on a soil too narrow for it. While amorphous masses, which contribute nothing to civilization, occupy infinite tracts of a soil that is one of the richest in the world. In 20 years time, Europeans in search of a better life will no longer emigrate to America, but will settle in this new Eldorado in the East. On the outskirts of Kyiv, Hans Rohde discovers the cost of these dreams of conquest. Mutilated bodies, ruins, blown-out vehicles, everything around him is gradually destroyed. It's insane. I'm under fire. I'm looking at a tree, sunlight, and the rays filtering through its branches.
How I yearn for the town's forest, where I used to stroll on Sundays with Rosl. A cloud of ominous black smoke has engulfed it. As the smoke rises, the tree starts to lean, slowly at first, then faster and faster until it crashes to the ground. In this nightmare, there's no place for my forest dreams. On September the 16th, General Heinz Guderian of Army Group Center is filmed for the German news when his army links up with Army Group South just outside Kiev. Hitler's strategy has worked. For the Red Army, it's a massive disaster. The worst since the invasion began. 30,000 vehicles, 650,000 soldiers, 13 generals fall into the Germans' hands.
September the 19th, German forces enter Kiev without resistance. The Red Army left the city 2 days prior after planting time-delayed mines in many government buildings, which explode as the troops go by. For 5 days, the city is a blazing inferno, causing the death of hundreds of soldiers. The Germans immediately blame the city's Jewish population for these attacks. On September the 29th, General Eberhardt, the new governor, orders all members of the community to gather by the Jewish cemetery, supposedly to await transfer. Everyone must bring their most valuable possessions. In her diaries, Irina Khoroshunova recounts her encounter with the grim procession.
They are escorted by serried ranks of soldiers. Until now, all the columns of prisoners I have seen were flanked by a few armed guards at most, but this is different. The Germans strictly forbid anyone to approach this group of prisoners. By a house, one of the men looks up and dares to ask for water from a woman at her window. He walks towards her, then quickens his step. Two shots ring out. He is killed instantly. The prisoners are taken by German soldiers and Ukrainian auxiliary police officers to the Babi Yar gorge near Kyiv.
Hans Roth is occupying the city with his unit. He meets a comrade from his village who is a member of the death squad and takes him to the site of the massacre. Even he, who regards the Jews as enemies of the Reich, is appalled by what he sees. I'll never ever forget this horrific sight. There are Jews standing on the edge of the gorge. The machine guns are whipping into them. They fall over the edge 50 m.
Whatever stays at the edge is swept over. When the quota of 1,000 is filled, the pile of corpses is blown up and covered with earth. "Isn't the detonation a great idea?" says the fresh-faced blond youth. My god, the boy is 19 years old. 19. Without saying a word, I turn and practically run back to town. In the space of 2 days, September the 29th and 30th, 33,771 Jews are executed by members of the Waffen SS and the Einsatzgruppen with the help of Wehrmacht soldiers and Ukrainian auxiliary police.
Men, women, children. Babi Yar is a turning point in the radicalization of the Nazi extermination policy. This is not the first massacre of women and children, but the Germans have never murdered so many Jews in such a short time. Over 1 and 1/2 million Soviet Jews will be exterminated in mass shootings in the Holocaust by bullets. The genocide plan will later to the rest of Europe and rationalized, industrialized in the death camps. Young Irena can do nothing but utter her despair. I write and I'm horrified by my own words. I write, but my words express nothing.
I write because the world has to know that a terrible crime is being committed and it must be avenged. I write and at the same time the mass murder continues of innocent and defenseless children, women, and old people, many of whom are buried alive because the Germans are thrifty and do not like to waste bullets unnecessarily. Following the capture of Kiev, Operation Barbarossa resumes. Nothing now stands in the way of the conquest of Moscow before winter.
