Subject: Rudolf Schulz

born: September 8, 1926

started preliminary training for non-commissioned officers in 1941 at age fourteen

Interviewer: Franjo Hülck

Mr Schulz: I left school at the age of fourteen and a half and went on to a cadet school in 1941. Actually, this school was called a preparatory college for non-commissioned officers because on enrolment you signed up for 15 years of military service. It was called preparatory college because, apart from military training, the first three years were mainly dedicated to schooling. And this academic training was very good for me because I had been to a village school. There were quite a lot of things I had to learn anew or had never been taught at that village school. It was in 1941 that I went to this cadet school, my first post or rather school was in Geldern on the Lower Rhine. It was a boarding school where about 600 boys, some of them my age, were instructed. This included military and academic training. For me this was all quite extraordinary since I was one of those boys who had never been away from home before. From time to time I enjoyed climbing up to the top storey to see whether I could spot the church tower of my home town. It took a while for me to get used to the situation, but then I adapted and quite enjoyed the learning, training and physical education. This type of training really focussed on sports, as was typical of the time in general. And I am convinced that we benefited from the training we received at this young age, because we could put it to good use during the war years. The aim of our school was, first and foremost, to train an elite, which was quite common in Hitler's time. They simply wanted to bring up young people to form an elite. The boys who attended the school had all been carefully chosen and tested, so we were a lot of carefully selected young men cut out to be elite soldiers.

Naturally, the preparatory college for non-commissioned officers wasn't just schooling but included tough military training which was given by carefully selected instructors, some of whom had served in an army of 100,000 soldiers. This meant that they preached and demanded absolute and unconditional obedience. Well, we thought this was something to be proud of, and it was also drummed into us that we, a group of boys, were an elite. Sometimes this attitude was conveyed in phrases such as: "Always remember that nothing but the best will do for you." And I think that the military drill matched the demands made upon us. But I must say I didn't really mind all that much because physically I was very strong. In the beginning I had problems with the academic training which was due to the fact that I had been brought up in a village with five or six grades in a single class room. All this was quite difficult. But we were lucky enough to be with eight or ten boys in a single dormitory, all of whom had different talents. So there was always someone there to help out, and this was also one of the guiding principles of our training that you had to help, commit yourself and support each and everyone. The motto wasn't "I'm the one", but, "We're the ones". Well, that was quite important, although you have to keep in mind that we were all destined to be non-commissioned officers. Of course, afterwards chances were good to receive one's commission as an officer, but our aim was simply to be promoted to an officer's rank. The essential thing was that you signed up for fifteen years of military service as you passed from the preparatory school to the college for non-commissioned officers. And at the end of military service, that is, after three years at the school for non-commissioned officers and ten years of service with the troops, the last two years would once again have been exclusively devoted to academic training. This entitled us to enter the higher or senior civil service and join the municipal administration or any other profession for civil servants. And that was really our, or my, motivation for attending this preparatory school for non-commissioned officers and for committing myself to fifteen years of military service. And if everything had worked out this way it would have been quite an achievement.

But things didn't run so smoothly. After about a year we were transferred from Geldern to another school in another town, namely Wetzlar in Hesse. There we stayed about three quarters of a year. It must have been towards the end of 1943, or rather the beginning. And at the end of 1943 I was once again transferred to Ravensberg-Weingarten down south in Swabia, near Lake Constance. At Christmas time in 1943 I was called up for the National Labour Service for three months as part of my training. When this was over the three-year period of training which I had expected to receive was shortened. Because the war was already under way I was transferred to a school for non-commissioned officers in Freiberg, Saxony, in March 1944. Freiberg isn’t far away from Dresden. It was at this school that military training in the proper sense of the word started, weapons and military equipment training which originally had been scheduled to last for two years. But since the war was at a crucial stage and the Americans and the British were already entering German territory, the entire school was closed down. We went from Freiberg to Münsingen near Stuttgart where we were activated in a large division on some training area. We were supposed to go to Russia, but because the Americans and English were already breaking through our lines - they were in Normandy and moving ahead via Paris - we were transferred to the region of Paris. There weren't enough troops to hold them up there, so our division was sent there. We went there by train, our whole division that is, and arrived in Nancy or some place nearby which wasn't far away from the border of Alsace-Lorraine or the French border at that time. So we entered the area by train and didn't realise that the Americans had already passed the city of Nancy to the left and the right hand side. We were let inside the city and then the lines were practically closed. And my regular service during the war really only lasted from September 5, 6 or 7th till October 8th. The period I spent in action, at the front, lasted no longer than about a month. But even this short period of warfare wore us out and we were taken prisoner.

Interviewer: But you were still so young and the essence of soldiership has always been aggression and defence. Was this really an option at your age?

Mr Schulz: No, not at all. That war could be boiled down to this option might have been the principle that guided our training by the officers or those who devised it. But we would never have put it that way. The official version obviously was that of a soldier who goes about his job in a disciplined manner. Words such as "Slaughter and kill", were never used. You had to be fair with the enemy. And once you had finished school and your job, I mean serving your time as a soldier, you could join a profession where you could leave your mark. It was always made very clear that you had to be someone who would dedicate his life to his country. But there was never any national socialist training, strictly speaking. It was an army institution dedicated to military and academic training.

Interviewer: But at the same time the war was going on behind your backs, so to speak. You were attending this school while there was a war on. What were your thoughts on this? Were you at all informed?

Mr Schulz: Curiously enough, we didn't really notice the war all that much. Fair enough, when there was news of victory, this was obviously something special. This was the way we had been brought up and trained. But rather than being in any way focussed on this war which was going on at the time, we did what was asked of us in terms of military and academic training. We never had to say anything along the lines of "Thank God, we brought those people to their knees." Such chauvinist attitudes were never considered in any way. Especially in retrospect when many a thing comes back to mind, it was quite remarkable that this was never the case. Another incident keeps coming back to my mind, though. Once we were stationed near a village and I was sent there to fetch something from one of our command posts. And there were two dead Americans lying along the way. This scene is still very vivid because you might say that for a moment I was almost frightened. I was really scared and told myself, "Such things are happening, and they could just as easily happen to you."

And then I walked away back to the command post where I was staying with the others. I told them what I had seen. This memory is still very vivid.

Interviewer: How old were you at the time?

Mr Schulz: I was eighteen years plus about twenty days old. Because I had had a very sheltered youth this scene left a deep impression. It shaped me for the rest of my life, even in the present when I'm looking ahead.

The Americans were there and attacked us. It lasted till the evening. Those who took us prisoner didn't come from the direction we had expected them to, but from behind. We were taken prisoner and somehow I had the feeling: "Well, our life has come to an end now. They are going to get you and what will happen to you?" Those were the thoughts that came to my mind, I remember it all very clearly, because I was searched with my hands up and all my belongings were taken. In one of my pockets I had a photograph that showed my parents at home. When they also took it , I asked, "May I keep it, please?" He looked at me in surprise and gave it back to me. Apart from this there was nothing left in my pockets, nothing but the photograph. And I managed to hold on to this photograph the whole time. We were then taken away with our hands above our heads on some truck, this truck picked up everybody. We were driven off to a huge assembly camp on a large industrial estate where we all had to lie down. We were under constant surveillance and lay there all night. The following day we were loaded onto railway carriages and taken to Cherbourg via Compiègne. But the night I was taken prisoner was somehow overwhelming; we were happy to have survived and dead scared at the same time. We asked ourselves, "What will happen to us, what will come next? Will you ever return home and see your parents again, your brothers and sisters? Will you ever see them all again?" From this moment onwards I realised that, first and foremost, I had to do anything to survive. There were two or three others from my school and the three of us formed an alliance. We said, "We have to stick together now." And I think that was a part of our desire to survive, that we wanted to live rather than to die. Nevertheless we were scared in case we might never get back home again. It was the Third Reich, after all, national socialism, according to which we were the master race, and all those whose skin was black or yellow or any other colour simply weren't human. On the way from the place where we were taken prisoner to Cherbourg I realised that whenever people spat or threw something at us we were defended by those who guarded us, although the majority of them were black. They even chased our detractors away. And I must admit that, in my head, I apologised to them because I felt, "It can't be true what they have drummed into us, that we are the master race and the others are not even considered to be human." Today I don't give a damn, nor did I really care then whether someone had yellow, green or blue skin or whichever other colour. The only thing that mattered was that they were human beings, someone to talk to, someone who would pay respect to you. And I must say this insight was another of those moments which shaped me for the rest of my life.

After we had stayed in the camp at Cherbourg for almost four weeks we were transferred to London at the beginning of November. We crossed the Channel by boat and were taken to a large camp near London. This place harboured about 15,000 German P.O.W.s and was subdivided into different camps. And I must say that when I was taken to England the resolution I had already taken became even stronger. I told myself, "All you have to do is survive. Otherwise you won't be able to hold out. And you'll never get back home, anyway." I think essentially it was the right strategy to push away all thoughts of home and whatever came to your mind and try concentrate on one thing, "You have to survive, you have to try and stay where you are and remain healthy and fit, nothing else." After all, it wasn't exactly a pleasant experience during the first one or two months. Not with the Americans, nor with the British. There was a lot of frustration in store for me and the others but we also came to realise the more positive aspects, namely that we were being taken care of. This meant you had food and water, a place to sleep and you were able to move about freely without being hit or harmed in any other way. You could, quite simply, live. We were counted in the mornings and in the evenings to check if everybody was still there, but that was it. In the evenings you were locked into these halls which were unlocked again in the mornings and you were given food and water. It is true that we didn't have a lot of food, but somehow it was quite enough to survive.

Interviewer: How many were there in this camp?

Mr Schulz: Obviously, there was a huge number of people in this camp.

Interviewer: Just a moment, please. Could you please wait for a moment when I say something so that I can edit the material?

Mr Schulz: I see.

Interviewer: Once again, please.

Mr Schulz: There must have been about 15,000 people in this camp, and this camp was again subdivided into several camps. I think this must have been a logistical necessity on the part of the English. But I must admit that we had water to wash as well as food and drink. We really had all we needed to survive. And we had to be careful to remain healthy in this situation. So that some time afterwards we might... There was of course speculation, "We might get out of here, but if not, where will we end up? And what is there in store for us in the future?" But paramount was the thought that you had to survive. This is what I learnt at the beginning of imprisonment when we were taken prisoner, brought away and put up in tents. You were always with a lot of people, all of them driven by the same instinct to survive. And survival is really only possible when you live in a community. There are very few "lone wolves". This is why the others mattered so much to me. Basically I was also brought up to learn that you live in a community. I spent about a year or nine months of my time as a P.O.W. in this large camp near London. Then I was taken to another camp which only had about 1,000 inmates. Against this background and precisely on the day the war ended, on May 8th, 1945, 150 of us were taken from the main camp, the large one, to a smaller one. What was most remarkable about this move was that we travelled in normal passenger trains rather than open freight carriages. We were taken from London to a place near Oxford. The people, the English that is, were rejoicing over the victory, and we were quite dejected which made us express sentiments such as, "The war is over, everything is lost and gone, what will come now?" Of course, nobody knew. So we were naturally scared of the future, "What will become of us? Will we have to stay here forever? Do they know anything about the situation we're in in Germany? Will we ever get back home?" When I came to that other camp I was about eighteen and a half years old, or almost nineteen. It was the same there, each and every person I met there had some special talent. Many of them knew how to do things I couldn't do myself. I told myself, "You're really dumb, they all know how to do it, but you don't. How come they know?" But at the same time, I knew how to do things they didn't. This sense of belonging to a community really taught me to respect people. It doesn't matter if someone knows very little or a lot, everybody has a skill that makes him stand out. That's the way people are. I was then interned in a labour camp where I learnt for the first time what it meant to have to work, to have a trade, to be a bricklayer or a carpenter or a chef, no matter which trade. We had a band there and constructed a stage, which we covered with jam tins to make it look more decorative. Then the lights were switched on. We also invited the English guards to the concerts we gave. Basically it got better as time passed. We worked, for example, I worked in an English town where there were no civilians, only soldiers. We had to sort out uniforms in a large store. There were English women and men who also worked there. So we came into contact with them and got to know them. Somehow we realised that we were involved in a joint effort. We were no longer regarded as P.O.W.s in the strict sense of the term, but were working with those people. I was quite impressed by this. And you were also respected for what you did. It was your merits that counted.

While we were working there in 1946 and at the beginning of 1947 our thoughts turned to release and people ventured to say things as, "Well, I think, or, let's say we all believe we will get out of here eventually." And then in 1947 it was decreed that we were allowed to leave the camp after we had finished work; we had to be back by 10 pm. We didn't have to work on Saturdays and we were allowed to go out on Saturday afternoons and Sundays. It is true that we still had to wear a badge with a sun or a label, but this didn't make much difference in dealing with the population or for the English themselves. I thought it was simply great that you could go out, that you could spend time with other people and talk to them. And best of all was that we were given a couple of coins of English money at work to buy ourselves fish and chips. That was quite a treat. With the permission of going out in 1947 it was to be expected that our release was practically underway. Some of the P.O.W.s had already been released because skilled labourers were needed, so they were released prematurely. Most of them were released to go the English, or rather the British zone. We were subdivided into several groups according to the month we had been taken prisoner. I was in group 23. And it was foreseeable when we would finally be released. It was in March 1949 that I was notified of my imminent release. We were then all gathered in a camp near Manchester where a convoy was formed for the passage via Harwich in England and Hook of Holland. In Hook of Holland we got on trains to Munsterlager where we also spent the night. As we arrived there I realised that we weren't the only ones present, but also those who had been released from Russian captivity.

At that time those men were obviously in a bad condition. They were either ill or completely exhausted after their journey. I must say I was almost ashamed when I saw those people and compared them to myself as I was physically fit, well-nourished and looking good. The sight of them really upset me. I couldn't eat as much as a single bite of the food we were given, but preferred to give them all I had. There was no way I could have eaten, anyhow. I was so dejected and at the same time relieved because in comparison I had come off really well. The following day I was released to go to Münster in Westphalia. We were taken there by train and then stayed there overnight until our discharge papers for North-Rhine Westphalia were complete. I went home by train the next day. My mother was already waiting. She knew I had been released and went to the station all day long whenever a train arrived to find out whether it was coming from Münster. I’m from Lünen and there is a railway line running from Coesfeld and another one from Münster. One arrives at the upper platform, the other one at the lower. I arrived at the lower platform. In those days trains still had this open platform at the end of each carriage. The trains were completely packed, and to me it was quite overwhelming to have been restored to life. It was something I hadn't experienced before. And when I stepped out on the platform to get off, my first glance went to my mother, as if I had been hypnotised. And I must say that when I came up the stairs and put my duffle bag on the carrier of the bicycle, the world looked alright to me again.