In the autumn of 1916, Katharina, a widow in Neuenbürg, grapples with the fear for her sons fighting in World War I. Her son, Arthur, is a soldier whose heartfelt letters provide insight into the war’s grim realities. The article explores the devastating human cost of the conflict, recounting personal stories that highlight the loss and disillusionment experienced by soldiers like Roeck, who transitioned from patriotic fervor to the harsh truths of modern warfare on the battlefields of Verdun.
Autumn of 1916: A Mother’s Heartache
In the waning days of autumn 1916, Katharina, a widow from the serene Black Forest town of Neuenbürg, steps into her garden, straining to hear the whispers of the wind. When it gusts from the northwest, it carries with it the ominous sound of cannon fire echoing from the Western Front, over 200 kilometers away. Her heart aches with the knowledge that her two sons are amidst the chaos. Letters and postcards arrive sporadically, each one a bittersweet reminder of their existence, yet each time she rushes to the mailbox, dread looms in her mind. As she pours over their words, she is haunted by uncertainty about their safety.
The survival of Katharina’s son, Arthur, became a pivotal concern for me. The young soldier who penned heartfelt letters to his “little mother” was none other than my father, Donald Roeck (1893–1978). He left behind a treasure trove of letters and field postcards that tell the stories of countless others who shared similar fates.
War’s Toll: Lives Lost and Stories Untold
The Great War claimed nearly ten million soldiers and approximately six million civilians, numbers that can often overshadow the individual tales of loss and suffering. Each statistic represents stolen youth, dreams extinguished on the battlefield, and lives forever altered. Every story deserves remembrance, including that of the young man whose experiences we will explore. The echoes of history resonate through time, revealing that the horrors of war remain alarmingly relevant today, as we witness conflict and suffering in various parts of the world.
In August 1914, Roeck, then a medical student, eagerly enlisted in a Uhlan regiment, driven by the patriotic enthusiasm that was prevalent among the bourgeois classes of his time. However, the reality of war soon shattered any illusions of glory. Following the assassination of the Austrian heir in Sarajevo and the subsequent alliance entanglements, Europe descended into chaos, igniting a two-front war.
A yellowed photograph captures Roeck and his comrades before embarking on their journey to the Eastern Front in March 1915. On that sunny day, amidst farewells and small bouquets decorating their uniforms, Roeck wrote home, brimming with optimism. “We are still cheerful and look forward to showing how Swabians fight!” he declared, just as their train crossed into Russian Poland. Yet, war’s grim reality quickly set in, as he encountered devastation—ruined homes, graves, and children begging for food. “Everywhere there was great joy that German troops were coming,” he noted, unaware of the horrors that awaited.
Within weeks, enthusiasm faded into disillusionment. Letters from Masuria recounted exhausting rides on horseback and uncomfortable nights spent in barns or on the ground. “We are stuck here in this sauna and always fight, but only against the lice,” he lamented, longing for the comforts of home. By the end of April, Roeck faced his first encounters with Russian forces. Balancing his duty to report on the war while shielding his mother from worry, he wrote, “Here the fighting rages all day,” attempting to convey a sense of calm amidst the chaos.
As the war escalated, Roeck’s experiences transformed. He entered the fray with the spirit of a bygone warrior, cognizant that the age of cavalry was fading. The grim realities of war continued to unfold before him, ultimately leading him to the infamous battlefield of Verdun in December 1916. Here, he witnessed the unprecedented scale of artillery fire and the emergence of modern warfare, where technology would reign supreme over sheer bravado.
Upon arriving at Verdun, Roeck’s letters reflected a stark awareness of the grim nature of war. “Now we know again what war is,” he wrote, describing the somber atmosphere and the haunting sight of coffins he encountered. The relentless sound of artillery fire served as a constant reminder of the danger that enveloped them, with each day merging into a cacophony of fear and uncertainty. In the “Valley of Death,” he faced the unrelenting reality of combat, where the line between life and death blurred with each passing moment.