War diaries: German soldier Robert Rupp describes the war in Russia in 1941 (Published on 31/08/2025)
German sergeant Robert Rupp, a primary school teacher in civilian life, took part in the fighting from the start of the German attack on Russia 22/06/1941, and was killed in action in December 1941. He wrote down his experiences in a diary for his son, who was two years old at the time.
Excerpts from these were published in Hans Dollinger’s book „Kain, wo ist Dein Bruder? Was der Mensch im Zweiten Weltkrieg erleiden musste – dokumentiert in Tagebüchern und Briefen“ [“Cain, Where Is Your Brother? What Humankind Had to Endure During World War II – Documented in Diaries and Letters”] (1983) and are reproduced here.
On the evening of 21/06/1941, the day before the German attack, Robert Rupp wrote (from: Dollinger, p. 79 [all citations translated from German language]):
“Calm before the storm. We build a tent out of the vehicle tarpaulin. Towards evening, the commander gives a speech. The Führer’s appeal to the soldiers on the Eastern Front is read aloud.”
Entry on 24/06/1941 (from: Dollinger, p. 80 f.):
“At around 3:00 a.m., we are awakened by the rattling of rifles and machine guns. The half-platoon is at the disposal of the commander in the area of our own tanks on the road. Behind the sparse woods in front of the 2nd Company, a few straw houses are burning. People are driving out their cows and carrying their belongings out of their homes. A reconnaissance team led by Limmer wants to search the houses below. He finds individual Russians hiding in the fields and houses. About 50 prisoners are brought in, among them wounded.
One of them has his cheek torn open by a hand grenade. He asks me for water and gulps down the tea greedily. A major questions the Russians in their language; the military commissar is not there, he has fled. The prisoners become happier, handing out the Soviet stars pinned to their caps; the wounded sit unbandaged on the side of the road for a long time. They have to wait until the German wounded have been treated and are then treated by the doctor. W. proudly shows his blood-stained hands and boasts that he shot a few Russians. They fired back at him, he says…
In the afternoon, while I am sleeping, I suddenly hear a few shots. I wake up and start swearing because I think someone has shot at dogs. A large group of soldiers is standing nearby. I learn that two Russians had to dig their own graves there and have now been shot. One of them fired shots after being captured, and one used dumdum bullets. One lived for a long time; even when a thick layer of earth was already covering him, he was still panting so hard that the earth rose up, and he raised his arm again… Now four Russians are digging a new hole. For whom? The wounded man to whom I gave tea to drink in the morning is brought here, lies down in the pit, and is shot by a sergeant. Two prisoners immediately and eagerly shovel dirt on top of him. The Russian was a commissar. Disagreements about the shootings break out. It is said that the motorcycle gunners shot the inhabitants of an entire village, including women and children, and threw them into a mass grave they had dug themselves because the inhabitants were treacherous and caused the motorcycle gunners many losses …”
For 29/06/1941, Robert Rupp documents the following scenes from the advance to Minsk (from: Dollinger, p. 83 f.):
“Wygora. At dawn, a Russian tank drove past (coming from the front). It waved, some say it had a white flag. A tank pursues it and sets it on fire at the edge of the forest behind us. We are being fired at by artillery, quite close, but too short. The vehicles are pulled into a forest clearing above the road. Still artillery fire. We spread out in the forest… We are told to find a new route to Minsk. The company lies in a forest until around 1:30 p.m… Tanks clear the way ahead. We drive across fields, etc. We drive through the village at high speed (it is occupied by Russians) and quickly take the high ground. The heights are occupied, but we immediately come under artillery fire. The first shell hits Sergeant Friedrich Schmidt with his arms outstretched. We dig in on the heights. Constant artillery and grenade launcher fire… Behind the village, which is being cleared (the Russians are sitting under the houses in the basement), an artillery observer is lifted out. He is shot with about fifteen men! Then the artillery fire stops…
An AT [anti tank] gun has been spotted and is put under fire. Horses run out of the bushes (the horse and carriage for the AT gun) with the driver, running in circles in the field. A bunker is now spotted to the right of the AT gun. Now there is movement over there. Whole crowds are fleeing backwards. The sand hill is an observation point for our artillery. The fleeing Russians are being fired upon with artillery and machine guns. The terrible effect can be seen. At one point, only one man continues to run, upright between the impacts. The Russians flee to the village, and an entire battery, with their horses and carriage, tries to flee to the right. Some of them get through.
Now we observe an enemy convoy (cars) approaching from the left. Are we about to be surrounded? The cars are being fired upon by artillery. Our weapons don’t have enough range. We become a little subdued, knowing that we could be surrounded. Suddenly, however, a large number of German tanks emerge from the village. At the same time, we advance, cross the bridge in the valley, and move toward the hills on the other side. We come under heavy fire from all sides. But it’s not targeted… The Russians have positions that can only accommodate one man at a time. Our weapons fire, creating a noise never heard before. Soon, villages on both sides of the road are burning. Some Russians surrender. The second platoon »takes no prisoners«. A prisoner holding something red in his hand runs fearfully through the noise with his hands raised, being sent here and there. »Shoot him down!« one of us shouts, running after him and tripping him up so that the prisoner falls flat on his face. He gets up immediately and is led away to a group of other prisoners.
A sheep with a shattered leg lies there. Leixner puts it out of its misery. An old man sits by a cellar hole. Cows stand helplessly amid the noise. A calf with a shattered hindquarters sits there. Half the platoon goes to the front line, pistol shots ring out from all sides… We take up position and scatter through the forest. Behind us, an AT gun or a tank is firing. The enemies in the forest are silent, the front lines can advance again. Then soon a general halt. We drink our last tea in the trench. I still see civilians in the burning villages. We are to secure the forest overnight. Then we are told we have to retreat further. And finally, we are told that we have advanced too far, close to Minsk, and have almost surrounded ourselves, so we have to return to the area where we were last night. So it was all for nothing! A wounded soldier is bandaged next to us in the trench. A tank driver calls for the medic. He has been shot in the head and his brain is exposed.
Retreat. The prisoners are assigned as porters, six per half-platoon. One is a student, and I chat with him a bit. I walk behind the prisoners to make sure they aren’t carrying too much. Some soldiers fall behind, unable to continue. I take the boxes from one of them. Again, shots are fired from the fields. The vehicles are still standing in the village where the attack originated. We can’t leave for a long time because everything is blocked and the roads have been destroyed by tanks. A tank with its crew has gotten stuck behind. A car drives back to pick up the people who were left behind. The tank has caught up. The return trip lasts until morning. I am on the car. One prisoner has diarrhea and has to get off frequently. The student falls asleep at my side. I also sleep a little. There is constant rattling behind us. They say there is another battery at the rear that has to be freed by direct fire…”
On 01/07/1941, he wrote the following in his diary (from: Dollinger, p. 86):
“It is said that an order has been issued by the Führer that prisoners and those who surrender are no longer to be shot. I am glad to hear that. Finally! Many of those I saw lying there had been shot with their hands raised, without weapons and even without their belts. I saw at least a hundred lying like that. It is said that even a parliamentarian who came with a white flag was shot down! In the afternoon, it is said that entire companies of Russians are surrendering en masse. The method was terrible. The wounded were also shot…”
For 02/07/1941, he notes the following experiences (from: Dollinger, p. 86 f.):
“Prisoners are brought in, one by one. I am supposed to interrogate one of them. The Russian wants to explain something, but I don’t understand. We send for the artillery major… The prisoners are sent back again to fetch a parliamentarian. Only some of them return. A few wounded men also arrive. One has been shot in the arm and is very cold. I make sure he gets something to cover himself with and give him tea. The prisoners say that no one is left in the forest. Everyone has fled. Now the commander returns with all the company commanders. The 2nd Company is to search the forest, the 3rd to search along the road.
We hear terrible cries for help coming from the forest. The cries express boundless abandonment. The forest has been terribly ravaged. On the way back, we go deeper into the forest to look for those calling. The Russians have dug holes deep enough to bury a man. A man with a leg in a splint is sleeping against a tree in front of one of the holes. He wakes up and is happy to see people. He is an impressive guy. His leg wound is bandaged. He asks for medical help. I say that I will take care of it. He has a new pair of binoculars, which I ask him for, and he gladly gives them to me. He says that another comrade is there. I find him in the hole below, also sleeping from exhaustion. Both thighs are bandaged. The blood is seeping through. The bandages are completely sticky. The two are terribly plagued by biting flies. They can call to each other without seeing one another. We give them the cigarette they asked for. They thank us profusely. I imagine the terrible end. At least they still have hope for help. Unfortunately, I don’t believe in it. Further down, we see someone crawling through the forest on all fours. His entire buttocks are bloody. He, too, begs incessantly for help. Dead bodies with brains splattered everywhere. Others just open their eyes weakly. It’s a terrible scene in this little forest. The Russians could have taken their wounded with them. But they’re terribly cold… It’s scary how little a human life is worth in Russia, even your own.
A prisoner asked without much fear where he would be shot, in the forehead or in the temple. As we emerge from the forest, it is already time to leave. The graves of our comrades are on the left and right sides of the road. I ask for medics, but it is in vain. We continue on toward Minsk.”
Between Orsha and Smolensk, Robert Rupp wrote the following in his diary on 19/07/1941 (from: Dollinger, p. 89):
“We dug holes for ourselves. I read in the hole in »The Wedding at Canaan«. Then I get tired and fall asleep sitting in the hole. Suddenly there is wild shooting, cannon and machine gun fire. Engine noise. Two enemy planes fly low over us. Defenses were not ready. I hear news from a car. There is little to report from other fronts. Since Wednesday (it is now Saturday), Smolensk has been in German hands, they say. We are not going to Smolensk, we are supposed to pass five kilometers south of it…”
On 31/08/1941, he wrote a letter to his wife from the central section of the Eastern Front with the following content (from: Dollinger, p. 95):
“I am writing to you in the fresh morning air. You see, the days and Sundays still belong to us – and always will. I can picture you today, looking so Sunday-like in a beautiful dress. Perhaps you are in Wolkertshofen church, singing and not trembling with your voice… After this Sunday, our sunny month should come, as we wish and believe. At present, such material resources are being deployed that I have a new and firm belief in September. The war is being driven forward with a certain haste, so that some days I don’t get around to writing… I know about you and your faithful and courageous companionship. You and Raini are my whole and only happiness in this devilish world. We are richly blessed by God, so let us not become bitter, not against the fate that ultimately befalls us, and not against the people who are responsible for all this and yet do not bear the burden. Let us pray for a speedy end for the happiness of all and for the healing of wounds in the suffering we have endured…”
Further north on the Eastern Front, he notes in his diary on 20/09/1941 (from: Dollinger, p. 97):
“According to the latest promise, we will only be in Russia for a further month at most. The boss says he knows from above that the motorized troops must complete their tasks by 20 October: Leningrad, Moscow, Kiev, Kharkov. I always expected it to be September…”
As the onset of the muddy season made supplying German troops on the Eastern Front increasingly difficult, Robert Rupp noted in his diary on 22/10/1941 (from: Dollinger, p. 103 f.):
“In the evening and in the morning, we only have a piece of bread to eat. In the morning, we dig the vehicle out of the mud and build a bridge with beams. I get horses in the village. There I meet Jakob. He waits for me with bread and coffee. I can post a letter to Maria at his place. Our mail hasn’t been sent for a long time. In Karatschew, we beg for gasoline. About 30 kilometers beyond Karatschew, we find the company. The vehicles cannot drive down to the village. The village is terribly damaged…”
At the beginning of November 1941, he takes down the following experiences (from: Dollinger, p. 107 f.):
“A great famine begins in the city of Orel, which formerly had 170,000 inhabitants. A woman who lives next to our half-train room invites Kumpfmüller and me to sleep there. She sleeps outside. Now everyone has their own bed, and the room is larger and brighter. I visit the family downstairs more often, who are reluctant to let us move out. The mother of the woman in the old quarters downstairs comes and tells us that three soldiers were billeted with her and raped her 17-year-old daughter. They drove the mother out of the house with a beating and forced the daughter to do their bidding at gunpoint. The woman ran to the command post and immediately found help, but the quarters had been cleared and the soldiers were gone. The people talk about their fear when German soldiers come into the living room in the evening, shine their lights around, and take everything they can. They praise the correctness of our half-platoon.
Geschendtner, Bruckner, and Gerstmeier return from the military hospital… The returnees are astonished to find me alive, because back home it had been reported that I had been killed… They also tell me what it’s like back there, they tell me about the huge numbers of prisoners who were crammed into a small space and had to endure terrible hunger. A sergeant beat a girl inhumanely with a stick when she handed tomatoes through the fence. Geschendtner says that the soldiers assigned to guard the prisoners beg the wounded soldiers for ammunition and shoot it off all day long. Many of the shots were probably fired to scare people, but Geschendtner saw, among other things, how a Russian who wanted to reach out to the cattle car with a cup to ask for water was simply shot in the face, causing him to fall backwards into the car. Captured »Flintenweiber« [lit. »rifle hags«] were transported in an open wagon in the bitter cold, which meant they were left standing around at the train station for days. One of the girls, a nurse, talked to a sergeant and asked him to shoot her. She offered him 100 rubles for it!
Two civilians have been hanged from trees on the main street. They are carrying a sign: Hanged for arson. Soon another one is added: Hanged for working as a partisan against the German Wehrmacht… We arrive in Mzensk late in the evening. I feel very lonely…”
On 20/11/1941, during the early stages of the defensive battles for Kalinin, Robert Rupp wrote the following in his diary (from: Dollinger, p. 110):
“As soon as we arrive, we reach a height where our tanks have already been driving. Dead bodies lie around, and wounded soldiers are freezing to death! One of them lifts his leg. Another sits up slightly and moans plaintively. I give away the horses and a carriage.”
On 22/11/1941, he writes to his wife (from: Dollinger, p. 110):
“…I have cried very rarely. Crying is a way out as long as you are stuck in things. Only when I am back with you, resting and overcoming, will we have to cry a lot, and then you will understand your husband. Here, even in front of the saddest images, crying makes no sense, and »pity« is mean when it takes the place of help and action. There is a growing sense of human poverty and human guilt, which is rooted in each individual. A deep shame grows. Sometimes I am even ashamed of being loved. You understand that, don’t you, Maria? There are people who are so truly poor that one must be ashamed of one’s wealth. And then there is the primal shame. You know it because you also live. It cannot be described in more detail. Oh, things happen in this world!”
Robert Rupp, born on 07/06/1909 in Eichstätt, fell as a member of Infantry Regiment 63 on 04/12/1941 in Borisov, Russia.
(Head picture: Graves of unknown German soldiers and unknown Russians side by side
at the edge of the German military cemetery Ittenbach near Königswinter,
August 2025)
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