Mail Correspondence with Soldiers at War (“Feldpostbriefe”): From a letter written by German soldier Konstantin von Schaubert to his parents from the Eastern Front, December 1944 (Published on 17/12/2025)
(source: Volksbund Deutsche Kriegsgräberfürsorge, Letzte Lebenszeichen – Briefe aus dem Krieg, p. 175 f. [translation from German language]):
“20/12/1944, arrived on 25/12/1944
Daydreams!
I sit by candlelight in a sober office room, where perhaps some dusty office clerk once sat. Next to me is my gramophone. I put on the first record. A melody from the Puszta. The song sounds softly plaintive through the room and echoes hollowly off the cold walls. I think of my first days in Hungary, of the Puszta. One name stands out in my memory like a milestone: ‘Kaba’ – a term that also evokes the sober horror of war. I see the first dead bodies, burning tanks, hear the impact of the Stalin organs [a Russian rocket launcher], the barking bursts of grenade launchers.
I see the heroism of the German soldier, a roadside ditch, barely a meter deep, and yet a kingdom of heaven, with officers, soldiers, dead, wounded, gray, pale faces, death-like. Nevertheless! The next record! A jazz melody enlivens the room. I see Budapest. People who have no idea about the war. Dressed festively, cafés have their doors half open, soft, lively, light music drifts out. Officers in full dress uniforms at the side of beautiful women.
I feel like a village boy visiting the big city for the first time. Now an operetta begins to play. When was the last time I went to the theater? I can literally smell the scent that fills every theater. A mixture of perfume, powder, and sweat – there, an impact, it can’t be far away, has it hit someone? Now a song is playing from the next room, the song of my men. A real pirate song. I see their beaming faces, but I also see the faces of those who are no longer with us but once were – Hannibal, where have you gone? Do you remember when we went after the T 34 [Russian battle tank] alone one night with a bazooka and an M.Pi. [submachine gun]? You told me about your parents and siblings, about your beloved Hamburg. Are you dead? Or are you still alive somewhere?
And you, Schiessl, do you remember when we built the bunker together? Where are you now? But the record keeps turning – you have to handle it carefully, otherwise it will crack or break in two. Almost like with people. Outside, war is raging. In the distance, the Danube flows.
Thoughts by candlelight and music from a gramophone, recorded on the evening of December 20, 1944. Maybe it’s nonsense, maybe some people can find meaning in it after all. There is something higher that we humans have no idea about. We think we know it, but we can’t even begin to comprehend it.
Konstantin von Schaubert.”
Konstantin von Schaubert, born on 16/03/1925 in Berlin, has been missing in the Budapest/Hungary area since February 1945. The two other men mentioned in his letter, “Hannibal” and “Schiessl,” are Heinz Hannibal, born on 27/12/1923, and Richard Schießl, born on 21/08/1924, both apparently missing since 06/12/1944.
(Head picture: Entrance to the German military cemetery Daleiden,
February 2025)
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