Humor in the Wehrmacht

[der alte Landser]

Here's a short one that anyone who's ever served will appreciate. It's from "Ein Tornister voll Humor," page 27, and is entitled "Background."

Unteroffizier: "Lehmann, what did you do before you joined the army?"
Lehmann: "I was a telephone operator, Herr Unteroffizier."
Unteroffizier: "You exactly what I've been looking for! Since you're qualified, you have duty on the listening post tonight."

[Me-109 Jagdfleiger]

Another good one,
and yes the potatoes come out good
Jonathan

[der alte Landser]

Here's one from “Lachendes Feldgrau”, pgs 105-106 entitled "The Subtle Approach."

Sergeant’s training in the kaserne. Subject: the light machinegun. Sergeant Karotz quizzes the soldiers on the things that he taught them the last time. Suddenly, the company commander comes into the classroom right at the moment that the sergeant asks Private Pötsch how many components there are when the machinegun is field-stripped. Pötsch doesn’t have a clue and stands there mutely. Karotz’ face gets redder and redder and he begins dressing the unfortunate soldier down in a thunderous tone of voice.

The commander listens for a while and then calls the sergeant to the side. “Not so loud,” he says. “It’s often possible to get better results with a more subtle approach. Pay attention and watch how I handle this situation.”

Then the commander begins: “Pötsch, imagine that I’m your next-door neighbor and not your captain. We’re sitting together on Saturday evening having a few beers together. After the second beer: “Pötsch, what’s up with that machinegun? What’s a thing like that really made of?” — Now, how would you answer, Pötsch?

Private Pötsch stands there as if made of marble. He thinks and thinks, his forehead wrinkled into deep creases. Finally, after a long while, he says: “I won’t say a thing, you stupid fool. The enemy might be listening!”

(This story illustrates in a small way how tough it can be to get the exact nuance of humor from a bygone era. The punchline, "The enemy might be listening" (German = "Feind hört mit"), was a catchphrase that was repeated all over Germany during World War II. It likely would've been instantly recognizable to German soldiers of that time, since it was plastered everywhere on walls, posters, blackboards, etc.)

[der alte Landser]

This is a cartoon from "Lachendes Feldgrau, Band I," entitled "The Correct Place." Vorsicht! Feind hört mit! means "Caution, the enemy is listening."

[der alte Landser]

“VB-Feldpost #4,” page 76 entitled “Correct.”

It’s a well-known fact that units are only permitted to requisition supplies in enemy territory according to regulations with the appropriate forms. Not long ago, a cow was found in a pasture not far from Briansk. On one of its horns was the following receipt:

“10 liters of milk removed. Feldpost-Nr. ……..”



“VB-Feldpost #3,” page 78 entitled “The Iron Will.”

During the winter of 1939/1940 in our old garrison city in Galicia, I decided to introduce the soldiers of my platoon to the mysteries of the marching compass. More or less interested, my men listened to my explanation of the compass and how it worked. We then went out to the field for a practical exercise, but for some reason, the magnetic needle wouldn’t point reliably to north. We removed all of our metallic equipment and deposited it out of range, but the needle was still pointing off in the wrong direction. Shaking my head, I guessed that there must be a large magnetic mass nearby that was influencing the compass needle. I explained this to my men. Suddenly, one of the guys reacted as if a light bulb had gone off over his head. He blurted out, “Herr Feldwebel! That’s my iron will!”

Leut. Christian Hübner

[der alte Landser]

“Lachendes Feldgrau”, pgs 8o

Sergeant’s training sometimes leads to the chance for smiles, and even laughter. For example:
“Kanonier Kircheisen! You’re standing a post on duty in the middle of the night. Something slinks up from behind and wraps itself around you. You don’t have a chance of using your weapon. What would you do in this situation?"

“I would say: Hey, you dumb cat, quit messing around. I’m on duty!”



“Heiteres aus dem Brotbeutel Gekrümelt,” page 40, entitled “Incident.” The author is “HF.”

Final polishing prior to Nuremberg by Hauptsturmführer Schult, 3./LAH. After Obersturmführer Tidow had gotten us ready to the last detail, we now stood before the “Lion” himself in the September sun. Käpt’n Schuldt assumed command:
“Company… attention! Right shoulder…”
In this pause before the command of execution, someone passed out and hit the ground. In a droll tone of voice, Schuldt said:
“Tow him away,” and then unperturbed: “ARMS!”
And the rifle stocks slapped!

[der alte Landser]

This is a funny story from "VB-Feldpost #3." pgs 54-55 It's entitled: “The Password.”

Ukrainian winter. New-fallen snow. Sunlight glitters on the crystalline landscape. The commander trudges from guard post to guard post, inspecting each sentry. Every detail is important to him: post number, sentry area, amount of ammunition, daily signals, sectors of fire… Roving sentry Nr. 7, whom he meets at the midway point to Nr. 1, is next.
Everything goes fine. At the close, it occurs to the old man to question Nr. 7 about the day’s password. Now he’s found the sore spot. The poor sentry stands there frozen to the spot. His forehead creased in concentration, the muffler slides down over his eyes. His lips move, but no words come out, and his teeth grind together. “Herr Hauptmann, I could just shoot myself, I’m so angry.”
Subsequently, the excuses tumble into the snow. “Excuse me, sir…” and “I did know it…” and, his eyes scanning the ground, “I scratched it in the snow…” Damned bad luck. Then, sentry Nr. 7 is lost deep in his thoughts. After a while:
“Herr Hauptmann, I know exactly, it was someone in the party.”
The Hauptmann wants to help the poor lad, and names off a few notables. No luck.
“What a disgrace!” he finally exclaims. Nothing further, and then he stares at Nr. 7, then heads off to the next post. The weather has hardly blown over, when the sentry finally recalls the password. He chases after the old man, calling out, “Herr Hauptmann, It came to me…”
“Well…?” the old man replies.
“It's ‘Scharnhorst,’ Herr Hauptmann!” the relieved sentry beams.
“He must’ve had quite the low party membership number!” the chief grumbles, and continues smiling on his way.

[der alte Landser]

Here's a cute little cartoon from VB-Feldpost #3, page 8. "Ruki wjerch" is a Germanized pronunciation ofthe Russian phrase, "hands up."

[der alte Landser]

“Lachendes Feldgrau”, pg 86 (This one may have some applicability in the modern era as we move into winter!)

Lectures happen sometimes as scheduled — sometimes not.
The soldiers streamed back into the barracks.
“Did you guys go to the lecture?” asked the duty NCO.
“Yeah, the battalion surgeon was supposed to teach it.”
“What was it on?”
“How to protect yourself from the flu.”
“You weren’t gone very long.”
“The lecture got cancelled.”
“How come?”
“The battalion surgeon has the flu.”


VB-Feldpost #3 pgs 24-25 “Five Little Kids.”

Without warning, several enemy shells exploded near the position with an infernal din. Automatically, most Landser dove for cover, except Schönleben.
“Have you been at the front so long, that the racket doesn't bother you?”
“No, no, but at home I have five little kids.”

[der alte Landser]

“Ein Tornister voll Humor,” page 18, “The Correct Answer”

A wounded soldier is sitting on a bus with a bandage wrapped around his head. Across from him, a woman sits and gawks at him, making the poor lad visibly uncomfortable. He turns this way and that, but nothing stops the woman from staring. Finally, she takes a deep breath and asks, “Oh you poor man, were you wounded in the head?”
“No,” replies the soldier testily, “I was shot in the ass, but the bandage just slipped.”


This one is on page 80 of "Lachendes Feldgrau. It isn't named.

Haeseler retired in 1903 and assumed a quiet life. Every day, one could find him stumping across field and meadow in his heavy jacket and bucket-top boots. Once during maneuvers, he encountered a cavalry Fähnrich.
"Hey!" called Haeseler. "Your mount's saddle girth is too tight. He can't breath."
The Fähnrich swallowed a tart reply and forced himself to be polite.
"Old cavalryman?" he asked.
"Jawohl, Herr Fähnrich!"
"Retired?"
"Jawohl, Herr Fähnrich!"
"Were you a Wachtmeister?"
"Nope... Generalfeldmarschall."

Note: The subject of this little story is Gfm. Gottlieb von Haeseler, who served from 1853-1903. Here's his entry from Google: http://de.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gottlieb_von_Haeseler

[der alte Landser]

This is a cute little cartoon from "Lachendes Feldgrau." The title is "Recruit corporal on Leave." In English, we'd probably translate him as a drill instructor. He's saying to his family, " The low crawl is the safest way to move forward."

[der alte Landser]

Here's a funny story for everyone interested in Nachrichtenhelferinnen from VB-Feldpost #3, pgs 44-45, entitled “One must know how to help himself.”

It was bitterly cold, and the frost reached deep into the earth. The weather was constantly changing — cold, then thawing with heavy rains, then sunshine with freezing temperatures. The result: a heavy layer of smooth ice, so treacherous that one almost had to crawl on all fours to get from place to place. Duty had to take a backseat to the weather and there was an order forbidding the movement of any vehicle. Only absolutely necessary trips were permitted. I was the bus driver for my unit and had to drive. My cargo was 30 female communications-helpers that I had to transport to and from their place of duty. I loaded my sweet cargo and began the sled trip. In the flat lands there wasn’t much to observe, and the girls sat quietly in the bus. But then I had to negotiate an upgrade — an unimproved road that fell away on the right side at 70 degrees. It was dark outside and I was midway up the slope when my bus decided it was finished going forward. The tires began sliding backwards although the clutch was still engaged in forward. To make things worse, we now began slipping to the right! All the girls were screaming things like: “We’re tipping over, we’re going over the side!” I turned to my co-driver, who was sitting nervously beside me and handed him my copy of the VB-Feldpost. I said, “Here, get out and stick this under the back tires.” The bus erupted in laughter and the situation was soon restored and we continued on with the trip.

Ogefr. Gustav Wedde

[der alte Landser]

Here are a couple of anecdotes about Walter Krüger, who was a long-serving and highly decorated officer in the German army, and in the Waffen-SS.

“Heiteres aus dem Brotbeutel Gekrümelt,” page 43, entitled “Standing while drinking.” The author is “Ax.”

While Germania was based at Arolson, Obersturmbannführer Walter Krüger and his officers were in the club at a reception for a newly-reported Untersturmführer. Krüger toasted to the Untersturmführer, who responded by jumping to attention, glass held exactly at the third buttonhole of his Feldbluse.
Obersturmbannführer Krüger motioned for him to take a seat, saying: “The soldier fires from the prone position, and drinks while sitting.”
With that, a veteran officer stood and whispered to his tablemates: “And I, gentlemen, am taking my leave to do some business that a soldier does while standing.”


“Heiteres aus dem Brotbeutel Gekrümelt,” page 43, entitled “Standing while drinking.” The author is “Ax.”

During the occupation of Austria, the battalions of the Verfügungstruppe were each assigned a liaison officer from the Wehrkreiskommando. Obersturmbannführer Krüger received the Major with the words: “I’m glad you’re here. I need a third player for Skat!”

Here's Krüger's entryin English on Wikipedia:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Walter_Kr% ... officer%29

[der alte Landser]

VB-Feldpost #3 pg 36, “From a child’s mouth.”

When four-year old Marianndl learned that she was going to have a little brother, she jumped for joy. Clapping her hands, she quickly emptied her doll-stroller with childish enthusiasm. She’d heard from her aunt that Pappa had specifically ordered a little brother for her. Mama could only give birth to a baby boy, he had said. Everyone knew that Papa wanted a son to carry on the family name and take over the business when he grew up. The stork delivered the little bundle of joy punctually, but he brought a little sister for Marianndl. In the middle of Papa’s first disappointment, Marianndl burst in. Trying to comfort Papa, she climbed up in his lap and said: “What can you do, Pappi? There’s a war on. You just have to take what you can get!”


“Heiteres aus dem Brotbeutel Gekrümelt,” page 21-22, entitled Without orders.” The author is “ath.”

The company close order drill session is almost at an end. More or less satisfied, the commander thinks contentedly: “Now I just want to see a couple of well-done rifle movements, and we’ll call it a day.”
He then commands: “Left shoulder, ARMS!”
One, two, three and — four, the rifles snap onto shoulders. The men are looking good. Next.
“Present, ARMS!”
A sharp set of movements with the company moving as one. Complete silence, so quiet you can hear a pin drop. In this moment, loud, unmistakable and totally out of place, someone farts in the ranks. What a sound!
The men smirk and grin. The commander, somewhat nonplussed, reacts irritably: “Who did that?”
“Here, Hauptsturmfüher!” reports a veteran corporal.
“Man alive, what is wrong with you? What were you thinking?”
“I was thinking that that fart wouldn’t be so loud, Hauptsturmfüher!”

[der alte Landser]

VB-Feldpost #4 pg 64.

A Tyrolian maiden received the following field postcard from her boyfriend in the army:

“Dear Nandl! Today was Sunday. I thought about you all day, and it was very boring. With heartfelt greetings, Your Sepp.”


VB-Feldpost #4 pgs 65-66 “The General Asks.”

In the field hospital section for patients with intestinal illnesses:
“What’s your trouble, soldier?
“A tailor, Herr General!”
“No, no, I mean, why are you in the hospital?”
“Because I’m not allowed out of bed, Herr General.”
“Why can’t you get up then?”
“Because I have to stay lying down, Herr General!”
“For God sakes, man! I mean, where were you taken sick?”
“On the Don River crossing!”
“What is the trouble, here? I want to know what the doctor said to you when you came to the hospital?”
“Herr General, he said, “Oh no, not you again!”



VB-Feldpost #4 pg 67, “Iron Rations.”

The commander inspects the field kitchen. Three soldiers are present for duty.
“What do you do?”
“Meatcutter, Herr General.”
“And you?”
“Butcher, Herr General.”
“And you?”
“Blacksmith, Herr General.”
“What do you do in the kitchen, then?”
“I prepare the iron rations, Herr General.”



“Ein Tornister voll Humor,” page 22-23.

In all larger cities, the Red Cross maintains collection points, information offices, and so forth. One day, a tall, leggy blond walked into the Red Cross information office. “Please can you tell me,” she asked, “which field hospital Leutnant Graf Streitberg is in? He’s in the 9. Ulanen.”
The Red Cross volunteer on duty, a worthy matron, peered intently at her young visitor. “And what business do you have with the Leutnant, young lady?”
The lovely woman reddened noticeably: “Ahhh… I’m…. I’m his sister.”
The older woman inclined slightly and replied: “It’s a pleasure to meet you then, because I’m his mother.”