You'll not read about this at propaganda pages like 'war history online' because it

wouldn't fit the narrative of ' The brave Cpt. Joe and his company fighting for freedom
and human rights'. After the germans capitulated the banksters who looted the ppl
before the rise of the Reich had taken place came back into power and perpetrated its
usury scheme like they always did.

"SIGNAL OFFICERS OF THE WAFFEN-SS"

The below is a translation of the report by Untersturmfhrer, Willie Khler, from the
Totenkopf, Nachrichten Abteilung.

Excerpt:

"Following the German capitulation on May 7th, the 3rd SS-Panzer Division rushed to
cross the Enns River demarcation line before midnight on May 8th, in order to avoid
surrendering to the Russians. Although most of the division succeeded in surrendering
to the Americans before the deadline, they were forced at gun point back across the
Russian lines on May 12th.
From there they were transported to labor camps deep inside Russia where they
subsisted on starvation rations. The last prisoners were not returned to Germany until
1955.

Of the estimated 10,000 members of the Totenkopf Division who went into Russian
captivity fewer than 2,000 survived. After the war the former Untersturmfhrer Willi
Khler, who had been a platoon leader in the Nachrichten Abteilung provided the
following recollection...
.
"Late April 1945. We were near Knigswiesen. A report trickled down to us that we
should break through to Bad Ischl on our own initiative or else disengage. That was out
of the question. Our Aufklrungs Abteilung had once again halted the American
advance. A higher officer ordered us all to assemble at the edge of the woods. An
American bomber flew over. With heartrending words he thanked us for our loyalty.
With the words, "Germany will not be allowed to perish", he put his hands in front of his
face and people saw that he could no longer control himself. He wept. I believe each of
us young lads also had tears in our eyes.

From all sides we threw radio equipment and other important supplies in a large bomb
crater which we soaked with gasoline and detonated with hand grenades and anti-tank
rockets. Up to this time I had led a reinforced company with many young Hungarian
volunteers. This company was a self-contained heavy signal troop. These men had
displayed unbelievable bravery during our previous battles. I had pinned the Iron Cross
on each of them. The report of Adolf Hitler's death gave us soldiers the certainty of
what we did not want to hear or believe: the total defeat of the fatherland.
Despite the previous destruction of most of our equipment we were still fully armed. I
blew up my half-track and we set out on foot towards Pregarten. As a point of honor,
our division commander, Brigadefhrer Hellmuth Becker, remained with us to the bitter
end. Such men were an example to us and I would have put a bullet in my head before
I would have abandoned the men that I was responsible for. I stayed with them. We
were glad to still be alive and wanted to only go into American captivity - That was a
fallacy.

We were in a small meadow near Pregarten and waited for the return of our division
commander, who had gone to discuss surrender terms with the Russians. Early in the
evening our 01, Hauptsturmfhrer, Paul Steinecke, returned as a courier through the
Russian lines and reported that the Russians were keeping Brigadefhrer Becker as a
prisoner. The Ia then delivered his last order, "Save yourselves whoever can and fight
your way through to the Americans."

We marched the entire night and crossed the American lines at dawn. We disarmed
ourselves and put our weapons in a large pile. We were stopped by American tanks in
Gallneukirchen and crowded together in a meadow. Besides the Totenkopf Division,
there were also paratroop units, the Grodeutschland Division and parts of other
military units assembled in the meadow.

We remained in the meadow surrounded by tanks for three days without food or water.
For the first time I understood that water was as important as food. On the third day
civilians attempted to bring us pails of water. It was a hot day in May and we were all
almost mad with thirst. The civilians, who were all wives and mothers, thought of us as
their own husbands and sons, and collected together on the outskirts of the meadow.

American officers ordered their men to empty the water out of the buckets onto the
ground. The prisoners felt that they were being provoked and the Americans must have
certainly recognized that something would come of this. A vehicle with a loudspeaker
drove up and announced, in German, that we should maintain our discipline. We should
not remove our medals and awards, or our rank insignia, because on the next day we
would march about 10 kilometers to a discharge point. We believed this because the
words came from an American officer. The thirst tormented us so much that we were
almost without any will-power. However, that was not what the Americans were going
to do.
What took place on the next morning was unbelievable: We were ordered to assemble
in march groups of 500 men. In front and behind each group was a tank. These
Americans were not soldiers, but wild animals, such as we had never seen throughout
the entire war. Soon after we set out, we heard wild shooting to our front and rear. An
old grey-haired mother appeared in front of our march group who wanted to say
goodbye to her son. He was an older Wehrmacht officer. I will never forget. While still in
the embrace of her son she was shot and fell to the ground dead. We stumbled over
her. Our soldiers wailed with pain or rage. Generally we all had the thought that we
should try to escape. The shooting of defenseless prisoners must have given them
pleasure.

The Americans had betrayed us! They were marching us to the Russians. The march
tempo was set by the tanks. Many stumbled and fell. A scream to the left or right after
a shot from a pistol or sub-machinegun was fired at us. Those that could march no
further were shot without mercy. Behind each march group were American soldiers
running and shouting and savagely firing at these poor comrades. We were
approaching insanity and words cannot properly describe our condition. One thing
stood firm and I give my word as a combat soldier: Never at any time had German
soldiers treated defenseless prisoners in such a dastardly and mean manner. We had
expected this type of treatment from the Russians, whom we had been fleeing, but not
from the Americans. I will never forget this criminal treatment of defenseless prisoners.

Russian detachments were awaiting us with drawn pistols. For the first time each of us
received water and a piece of bread at a collection point. Unforgetable: This bread
tasted like a delicious pastry from a bakery. We were all thoroughly searched. Some had
to strip naked. Everywhere the same shout, "Watch" watch, your watch and gold ring!
Hitler dead, soon you too!"

A Russian officer came up and said the same thing to me and punched me in the
stomach. I no longer had a watch and that was probably why he hit me. Another officer
was collecting our money from us in a box. He wore a golden Star of David in the
same place as I had worn my Iron Cross 1st Class. He spoke perfect German. We were
ordered to remove our boots. Russian soldiers mounted on horses drove us on with
clubs and whips. One or another was struck in the small of the back with a rifle butt.
Once again behind us were heard rifle and pistol shots. The screams cut through to our
marrow. Those who could no longer keep up with the pace were shot down. We had to
endure this infamy for days after we had lain down our weapons.

We marched through valleys and villages. The lucky ones received some water from the
bewildered villagers. Many times I had such luck. "Good luck!", said a mother to me,
"Perhaps my son is with you." During the past nights the woman and her underage
daughters had been raped by the Russians many times. A Russian came up to us and
she could say no more. "Move, move, move!" we constantly heard. We were seized with
disdain. We still hold those villagers in the highest regard. I remember well a particular
village at the base of a valley. Here we found a well. The prisoners were encouraged to
go over to the well to obtain water. Most of us were suspicious, but 20 or 30 men ran
over to the well. Almost instantly they were shot down by the Russian guards. The poor
comrades! We were driven on by rifle butts. "Move, move, move!" Like machines, we
moved on. We were completely beaten down after so much abuse. The objective of this
march was a large former POW camp for French officers. We finally had some peace
here. We received food and water. Enough to keep on living.

After a few weeks the Russians ordered us to form into groups. We were collected
together and loaded on a freight train. We were packed like herrings in the wagons. The
journey went on for days. We had to take care of our personal necessities in the
wagons. We were living dead. I awoke one morning feeling somewhat damp. My pants
were full of blood. During the night my neighbor had slit his wrist with a rusty nail. That
was not the only such case. The journey went through Hungary and Romania to
Konstanza. There we were closely guarded and hungry in a harbor area. One morning
we were awakened by shouts from the guards and loaded on a ship. There we were
loaded like animals almost on top of each other. I had the good fortune to stay above
the deck. We were not allowed to move around, but the sea breeze saved us from the
foul air with the penetrating stench of urine and excrement from below decks. I don't
know where we landed two days later. We were again loaded on a train and transported
to a former Russian prison camp. The place was called Kadada. For many comrades the
place of their death from starvation.

Five years under the hardest labor with bread and watery soup. For those who failed to
meet their work norm, their daily bread ration was reduced from 600 to 400 grams. The
winter was particularly harsh. Five years on food insufficient for life; too many died. I
wanted to write a book about those five years. I became a stronger person during those
years of imprisonment. It would certainly be an interesting adventure book.
Unfortunately, I never wrote it. I survived those terrible times in those different camps.
Too many of our dear comrades we had to bury in Russian earth. Their names we have
forgotten, should we ever make a return trip to those places. The malnutrition impaired
our memories. I was allowed to return to my homeland half-starved."

Another good report can be found on page 350 of Vol 2 of "Wie ein Fels in Meer" by Karl
Ullrich.

Many men from the SS cavalry divisions spent 5 - 10 years in Soviet captivity. Good
reports can be found in the various books by Hans-Otto Wachter. Contrary to popular
belief, the Russians did not kill all of the SS wounded that they rounded up in Budapest.
I personally knew the Obersturmfhrer Fritz Haberstroh from SS-Kavallerie Rgt. 17. His
right leg had been amputated above the knee prior to his capure in February 1945. He
was freed to return to Germany a year later because he was unfit for work.

~ John Moore