Humor in the Wehrmacht

[der alte Landser]

“Ein Tornister voll Humor,” page 58, “Wartime Idyll.”

Night in a battery firing position. In the dugout stands a bunk bed, below sleeps the Hauptmann, above, one of his Leutnants. The field telephone rings, and the Hauptmann picks up the receiver. A voice on the other end orders, “Your battery will immediately fire a harassing mission to disrupt enemy mine-laying at position “xxx.”
After several attempts to wake the Leutnant by calling him and rapping on the bunkframe, the Hauptmann gets up and turns on the lantern. He shakes the Leutnant, who murmurs from the midst of his sweet dreams, “Not now, sweetie… turn out the light…” And the Hauptmann turns out the lamp, goes out, and prepares the battery for firing.



VB-Feldpost #3 pg 45-46, “The Girl on Stage.”

February 1942. A regiment of the Waffen-SS, in combat on the Leningrad front for months, stages a variety show. Using volunteers from the ranks, nothing has been spared to bring the finest entertainment for the troops. With a fanfare, the regimental band plays the opening number, and the emcee strides out on stage. He greets the audience in the jam-packed auditorium. Most of the soldiers have only been off the line for a short time.

The emcee explains that everything in the show is for soldiers, by soldiers. But, he goes on, against the toughest obstacles, it’s been possible to obtain some female entertainment for the troops. Turning to stage left, he calls with a flourish: “Fraülein Käthe!”

Hundreds of sex-starved eyes snap over to the stage door, covered with paper. A pixie breaks through the paper and dances to stage center. She’s equipped with all the right charms, especially for men who haven’t enjoyed feminine companionship in months.

“Fraülein Käthe” bows and waves to her over-heated public. From out in the rows, a Landser yells out, “Hey honey, after the show, meet me outside the front door!” Shading her eyes against the glaring lights, “Fraülein Käthe” searches for her Romeo, and replies in a deep basso voice, “Nyet panemeio.” (I don’t understand — in Russian.)

[der alte Landser]

“Heiteres aus dem Brotbeutel Gekrümelt,” page 93, entitled “Winter Fable.” The author is “JS.”

Troop Training Area Arys late in 1942. Officers’ preparatory training for senior NCO’s back from the eastern front. Instruction leader is Hauptsturmführer K. — a small man who speaks in clipped phrases.
“Subject: Experiences in winter combat! Müller, observations?”
Oberscharführer Müller — tall and thin as a rail, German Cross in Gold, several tank destruction badges — responds mirthfully:
“Sir, my experience from combat in the winter is — that in the wintertime it’s best to stay at home.”



VB-Feldpost #4 pg 27, “Peace of Mind.”

“Can we use that water for washing?”
“Nope, too dirty. Let’s make some tea with it instead.”

[der alte Landser]

VB-Feldpost #1 pg 33, “From Recruit Training.”

“Remember men, when you’re on pass, the watchword is: ‘The soldier avoids all conflict.’ If you’re in a bar and a fight breaks out, turn around and go the other way. There are only two exceptions: to defend the honor of the German Wehrmacht, and to protect yourself. No exceptions. Understood?” — “Jawohl.”
“Are your lungs weak? I asked if you understood?”
“Jawohl!” This time, the windowpanes rattled in the narrow classroom.
“That’s better. Now a question: You in back. What would you do if you were out with your girlfriend, and somebody insults her, or even tries to attack her?”
“In accordance with my duty, I would run away.”
“Some boyfriend you are! In accordance with your duty???” said the Feldwebel as the assembled recruits laughed. “Remember, if your girlfriend is attacked, it’s the same as if someone did it to you. Haven’t you ever heard that the female is our better half?”
Another soldier raised his hand enthusiastically, as if he had something important to ask.
“Well, what is it?”
“But, Herr Feldwebel, what if it’s somebody else’s girlfriend?”
Now the windows echoed with laughter, and it took a while before the Feldwebel could get on with the class.

[der alte Landser]

It seems like this is becoming a popular thread, and I'm enjoying the research to find the right stories, and to translate them for everyone. It's unfortunate that some of the best jokes and stories can't really be translated without losing their humor. If there's interest, I can post some of them in German. Meanwhile, here are some more:

Some of the little humor books from the pre-war era have stories about historic figures in German military history. I've already posted a couple of them, and here's one about Feldmarschall Blücher from “Da Lacht der Soldat,” page 7, entitled “Blücher in the Hospital.”

Feldmarschall Blücher often related how miserably he was treated in the field hospital as a young Leutnant in the Seven Years War. At that time, most surgeons were actually barbers without any real medical training. Their lack of knowledge and rough handling caused a great amount of suffering. As he later told the story, Leutnant Blücher was wounded in the foot by a musket ball and the surgeons cut wide and deep searching for the ball. Finally, unable to stand the pain any longer, Blücher exclaimed, “Dammit, why are you going so deep? I thought the hole was already big enough?”
The surgeon replied huffily, “We’re searching for the musket ball.”
“Why didn’t you say so when you started?” Blücher said angrily, “I’ve got the damned thing in my pocket!” With that, he dug into his trouser pocket and pulled out the musket ball, which he’d removed himself right after being wounded.


“Da Lacht der Soldat,” page 30, “Experience with horses.”

Der Herr Feldwebel asks, “Who among you has experience with horses?”
Several men step forward.
“What do you do in civilian life?”
Farmer, Herr Feldwebel.”
“And you have horses at home?”
“Yes, Herr Feldwebel, six.”
“Outstanding, and you there, you also have horses?”
“Yes, Herr Feldwebel, twenty.”
“Twenty? Do you own a stable?”
“No, Herr Feldwebel, I run a carousel in the circus.”



“Ein Tornister voll Humor,” page 60-61.

Obergefreiter Müller was on home leave. His girlfriend had arranged an evening with her family. The potential mother-in-law had pulled out all the stops to make dinner, and Müller said that he hadn’t eaten food this good in a long while. The girlfriend's little brother replied, “Me neither.”

[der alte Landser]

Working on these stories has demonstrated, for me, the difference in humor between the modern era and the past. I showed some of these to my son, who's almost 17 years old. He didn't feel like most of them were particularly funny, and I asked him why not. he said, "They don't have the punch of what we think of as funny." I got to thinking about it, and it occurred to me that our humor today is very much about sex, profanity, and crudeness. Many of the little stories from the wartime era are much subtler than our current humor.

Granted, these stories are from published works, so they're probably a little cleaner than what soldiers dreamed up in their bunkers and barracks, and I hope to hear from some of the forum members who served in the war. Also, I'd like others that have stories to share them, too. I don't want this to be just "my thread."

[der alte Landser]

VB-Feldpost #1 pgs 40-42, “The Fisherman.”

The duty day was finished, and two good buddies, Fritz and Karl, decided to head off post. They wanted to see some of the sights in the local French town. It was 1900 on a warm summer evening, and the sun shone brightly in the cloudless sky.

“Hey Karl, let’s head down to the canal, there’s always something to see there,” suggested Fritz.

Karl thought it was a great idea, and soon the two buddies reached the canal. Fishermen sat unmoving along both banks, some with their shirtsleeves rolled up, others wearing nothing but bathing suits. Every once in a while, one of them would catch a fish. Even the smallest catch was reeled in and tossed in the bucket.

Our two buddies went over and stood next to one of the fishermen. He had resourcefully planted two poles in the ground on either side, and stared intently at the water. The soldiers greeted him with a hearty, “Bong schnur, Mußjö.”

Turning slowly, the fisherman looked at the buddies, and replied, “Bonjour.”
Neither Karl nor Fritz spoke much French, and the fisherman apparently didn’t understand German. Therefore, Fritz decided to have a little fun, and began making wisecracks: “You think he’ll catch anything, Karl? He should be further upstream. There’s too much noise here.”

Karl shrugged his shoulders: “I don’t have a clue about fishing.”

Fritz pulled out his German-French dictionary, and searched for the right sentence to communicate with the fisherman. Finally, he found it. “Mußjö, attandeh moa s..su lorm!” he stammered.

The fisherman replied in broken German, “Nix Mußjö — Monsieur. Fish come for sure. Bite pomm der terre.”

Fritz said to Karl, “What a dummy! He’s using potatoes for bait. He’ll never catch a fish that way. He needs to put some worms on his hooks.” The two buddies laughed at the fisherman, who had apparently hung boiled potatoes — uncut — on his hooks.

“You’ll be lucky to catch anything, Mußjö, but I don’t think so! Have a good time though, potato fisherman,” Fritz said over his shoulder as he began walking away.

The fisherman, who had been partaking in his favorite hobby, jumped up, and said in perfect German: “You’re a couple of smart guys, huh? What snot-noses! Think you can pull one over on an old sergeant, huh? Move out and don’t ever come back here!”

As they took off like jackrabbits back down the path to the main road, the two buddies saw a uniform hanging on a tree. It belonged to the fisherman, who was a sergeant in another company in the battalion.

That was the last time Fritz and Karl ever went to the canal.

Ofw. Paul Torke

[Me-109 Jagdfleiger]

Working on these stories has demonstrated, for me, the difference in humor between the modern era and the past. I showed some of these to my son, who's almost 17 years old. He didn't feel like most of them were particularly funny, and I asked him why not. he said, "They don't have the punch of what we think of as funny." I got to thinking about it, and it occurred to me that our humor today is very much about sex, profanity, and crudeness. Many of the little stories from the wartime era are much subtler than our current humor.

Granted, these stories are from published works, so they're probably a little cleaner than what soldiers dreamed up in their bunkers and barracks, and I hope to hear from some of the forum members who served in the war. Also, I'd like others that have stories to share them, too. I don't want this to be just "my thread."

Indeed, I am 21 and what most people my age find funny is what you described above, I was shocked when I showed some friends who havent ever seen Monty Python and the Search for the Holy Grail, and some didnt find a single bit funny, I was shocked as I think it is a Hillarious movie if you can grasp the Brittish Humor, but alas Ive been told I was born a few decades to late, due to my intrest in the War's and my like for 80's bands such as Def Leppard and Van Hallen,
As said before, Thanks for posting the Stories as they give a unique perspective into the war and the soldiers personalities,
Jonathan

[der alte Landser]

Jonathon: I'm glad you're enjoying them. Here are a few for today:


“Lachendes Feldgrau,” page 86

Feldmarschall von Schlieffen was at Jüterbog to observe test firing of a new howitzer. The first round impacted right in front of the observation post with a mighty crash. Dirt, rocks and shrapnel flew everywhere, creating an extremely dangerous situation. Schlieffen got up off the ground and brushed himself off nonchalantly. He said aridly to the test officer, “Herr Major, that’s not the correct way to alter the seniority list.”


“Da Lacht der Soldat,” page 31, “Field Telephone Test.”

The regimental commander made it a practice now and then to check the wire connections to the line companies. One day he picked up the receiver and was connected with the 6. Kompanie: “Say, is it is raining cats and dogs up there, too?” Like out of a conch shell, the voice at the other end replied: “What do you think, you dumbass? That the sun is shining?”



“Ein Tornister voll Humor,” page 56-57, “Every Job has its Pressure.”

The new batman has arrived, and Frau Major has instructed him how to proceed with visitors. Every unknown person is to be asked politely for his name and rank. A short time later, the bell chimes and Johann opens the door. Bowing slightly he asks, “With whom do I have the honor?”

Flabbergasted, the stranger tries to go through the door. With another bow, Johann says again, “With whom do I have the honor?”

Shaking his head in disbelief, the stranger says, “Man, are you dumb, or what? I’m delivering coal.”


VB-Feldpost #4 pg 88, “Time of Day.”

“You don’t need to look at your watch, Schulze,” the petty officer said as the period of recruit instruction stretched too long. “I’ll let you know when your first year of service is over!”

[der alte Landser]

This cartoon, from "Lachendes Feldgrau," is entitled "A Mother's Work."

The caption says, "So that he gets a good night's sleep while on leave, someone nearby has to be sawing logs."

[der alte Landser]

Here are a couple of short stories from “Da Lacht der Soldat.” Both are on on page 28. This first one is “Instructional Hour.” The Jägerbataillon enlisted a number of new volunteers. During the course of instruction, the Unteroffizier explained the workings of the rifle.

"This is the stock, this in the barrel, the trigger. Hey, you, the second one back. Pay attention or you'll never learn this. What did you do in civilian life, anyway?"

The recruit: "Rifle maker, Herr Unteroffizier."


The next one is entitled "The Prize Winner."

During the war, the "Lille Kriegszeitung" sponsored a contest for the funniest story from the trenches. Entries could not be longer than 200 words. An entrant from Sachsen won the prize for the following story:

"Our company has a latrine with a board on it. The company police sergeant cut a hole in the board. — That makes 20 words. The other 180 words were what our executive officer said after he climbed out of the latrine."

[der alte Landser]

Here's a cute little story from a book I just picked up. It was printed in 1940 by Verlag "Die Wehrmacht."

“Frontsoldaten Lachen,” pgs 115-117 “The Smiling Private,” by Heinz Steguweit

It was 1939, in the days when no one knew with certainty, but one intuitively sensed certain things. War — it was on everyone’s lips, but not loudly. Maybe without fear, but speak of the devil, and he might show up.

And he did it haughtily, like a banker who demands high interest rates from the have-nots. Sure, it must be said that people sat in beer gardens that autumn at their tables drinking to England’s entry in the war. But they looked away from the loudspeaker over their beer glasses and coffee cups.

Well then, war. One saw officers with their girlfriends, Unteroffiziere with their wives, soldiers with their sweethearts. The differences shouldn’t be misunderstood, the game of words can still appear humorous to us. In those warm autumn days, the cafes and beer gardens were filled with braid, ranks stars, field gray. They were quite content that they would answer duty’s call.

Until something happened that had little meaning, but nonetheless caused a sensation with the customers gathered at their tables. The waiter ran around the establishment, giving the customers at every table the same pressing information: “Herr University Professor Doctor Wiesenbrugger has an urgent call — !?”

At a table where the second chair was occupied by a respectable woman, a man stood up. But not just a man; a tall soldier of distinguished appearance. But he wore the uniform of a simple soldier, his feldgrau Schiffchen perched on his head like a button. His rumpled trousers bagged from the tops of his boots: the Herr University Professor!

As the tall soldier made his way across the beer garden to the telephone, customers whispered among themselves. And as the educated man saluted here a Hauptmann, and there a Feldwebel, the whispers turned to smiles, and the smiles to laughter. Hardly scornful or mocking, but more out of understanding: “Look, there’s Private Wiesenbrugger, who’s also a doctor and university professor.”

In no way did the learned man seem to take any offense at the reaction to him. Instead, he appeared to exude a quiet contentment. He smiled back at some of the customers he passed, and didn’t appear to begrudge the extra time it took to render salutes in accordance with regulations.

It may have been ten minutes before the private/professor again made an appearance in the beer garden. The redness of his left ear showed the pressure from the telephone receiver, at which the assembled guests again began to laugh. When he settled his tab with a large bill, the nearby customers were astounded that a simple soldier had so much money.

And so the event had a start, but had not yet reached its highpoint. This occurred when a large Oberleutnant approached the private. Representing the neighboring guests, the officer stuck out his hand and asked, “So what’s your academic specialty?”

Shaking hands, Private Wiesenbrugger said resignedly, “I’m a philosopher, Herr Oberleutnant, I’m a philosopher.”

[der alte Landser]

“VB-Feldpost #3,” page 92 entitled “King Soccer,” by SS-Hauptsturmführer Alfons Benz

Before promoting a group of NCO candidates, the commander wanted to double check their knowledge of current affairs. I was given the task of asking the men questions about the world’s leaders. I asked the assembled NCO candidates about King George V, Stalin, Roosevelt, and Mussolini. The men had to correctly identify each leader, what country he led, and so on. Then I asked who Pilsudski, the Polish marshal, was. Total silence. Suddenly, as if a light bulb had just gone off over his head, NCO Candidate K., from Gelsenkirchen, blurted out: “Isn’t he the right wing from our soccer team?”

(Note: In the original. the joke ends by identifying the team only as Schalke 04, which is Gelsenkirchen's longtime soccer club. Here's their website:
http://www.schalke04.de/

[der alte Landser]

“Da Lacht der Soldat,” page 31, “Advance in Galicia, 1915.”

Requisitioning was absolutely forbidden on Austrian soil. As the battery reached a bivouac site after a 30-km road march, gun section leader Habermas appeared and reported the following:

"Reporting to Herr Feldwebel, that we ran over a goose with the right wheel of our howitzer. I quickly recovered it, so you can cook it."

"Outstanding, Habermas, outstanding. Come back in awhile, and you can have one of the breasts."

'Not necessary, Herr Feldwebel, we ran over one with our left wheel, too.

[sebastian]

[der alte Landser]

Thanks a lot for the feed back, Sebastian. Here's a funny little story that shows how the best intentions can backfire.

“Lachendes Feldgrau,” pgs 101-102 “Potato Soup”

Recently there had been some complaints about the soup: It was too thin. But the captain had personally eaten three bowls and found it to be delicious. There was suspicion that the cook had been watering the soup after the captain was finished eating.

“Well,” said the captain. “We’ll just have to figure this out.”

Three days later, potato soup was on the menu again. The captain made his way to the mess hall — not at the start of service, but near the end. He encountered two soldiers with full mess kits walking away from the chow line. He took the mess kit from one of the soldiers. The confused soldier stuttered, “But, sir… please go to the mess hall and …”

“Not to worry,” replied the captain. “I want to sample this portion, and you go back and get a new serving.” He took a spoonful from the mess kit and swished it around in his mouth. Wrinkling his face at the sour taste, he said grimly, “Holy @#%! This stuff tastes like dirty wash water!”

The soldier popped to attention and replied in his best parade ground voice: “Sir, that’s because it is dirty wash water! I was taking it to the grease trap to dump it.”