The following journal entries were recovered from the charred remains of a German soldier named Friedhelm Dahl. He was found on the outskirts of Kursk
June 29th, 1941
"Launching Day": Today me and my squad of battle ready soldiers got on a transport truck headed west towards the Soviet Union with all the other's in the Blitzkrieg. I am a mere grunt, but I strive to become the Lance Corporal before the Russians surrender, though with how things sound, I may not even get to fire a shot at any Russians who trying to fight back. Our staff sergeant informed us that we were the part of the German spearhead that would be piercing into the foreign land to claim as Germany's. It will be just like a hot knife going through butter.
July 10th, 1941
"Damn Ivan": As our armies pushed east, my squad was tasked with the job of clearing out the remnants of a factory. We were still a far ways away from out target, Moscow, there was at least a good 600 kilometers away. The building was almost completely gone except for a tower and what was left of what held it to the ground, not to mention the mass amount of rubble around the place. It was said that five Bolsheviks were hold up in the tower taking cheap shots at any Germans going by, this would not do. Since we were so far ahead of our heavy guns, we could bring the roof in. So we stealthily moved around the rubble covered ground in search of a entrance. As we did, a loud bang broke the silence. Immediately the sound of gurgling and choking came from behind me. I looked back to see the almost lifeless body of Bartle being held by a trembling Schmidt as he bled from the neck. Another bang filled the air as Schmidt fell to the ground screaming in pain. My first instinct was to pull him back. As I did, one of the Russians poked out for the last time to shoot me. He was then littered with bullets from every which way. I was able to get Schmidt into cover. Sadly he died later that night. As this was all happening, the staff sergeant ordered everyone into a small opening he had found. Since I was helping Schmidt, I missed my chance to charge in. As the rest of our squad pushed in, all I heard was gunshots and the sounds of dying Bolsheviks. I still can't get Bartle and Schmidt's faces out of my mind. I don't plan to sleep much tonight, thanks to those Damn Ivans.
October 8th, 1941
"The Bog": We have reached the marshes of the Soviet Union. These swamps and marshes are so watered down. This thus brings an end to the Blitzkrieg, slowing our advancing to a crawl. We came across a small opening in the dense trees to find a small village. We went into the village wanting information. The locals told us that Partisans had laid anti personnel mines directly in front of our path. We asked them exactly where, they just point all around us. This put us in a bad spot. The Russian winter will be coming soon and we are no where near prepared for it. None of us trusted the locals but we had no other choice. So our commanding officers that had joined us when the Blitzkrieg ended, said to move out into the marsh again in three single file lines. Lucky me, I got to be in the front of my line. As we trekked through the dense bog, the guy behind me told me to hurry up and get moving. As I turned around to retort, a click noise stopped everyone including the guy behind me, Cook. Under his foot was a mine that would be set off if he moved his foot at all. My sergeant ordered me to fall back to his position a few feet behind Cook. As i moved he yelled "MINES! Retreat, everyone!" We all started to fall back with Cook frozen in fear in the bog. When we had almost made it back to the clearing, a loud boom filled the air, Cook was no more. We were stuck and surrounded by mines, we didn't know what to do. When out of the blue, Burtok came up with an awful yet genius plan. He thought that forcing all the nearby locals to walk ahead of us so they clear out the mines. They're all probably Partisans any way, right? So we round up the locals and Burtok pointed his gun at them all and screamed "Anyone who stands still or tries to escape will be shot!" He then fired a few rounds in the air, and we started to move. All I can say is we got out of there only losing Cook. I hope I won't have to endeavor that horrible act or any other like it ever again.
December 16th, 1941
"Freezing": The Advance towards Moscow for a quick victory has failed. We were to slow and got caught in the Russian winter. Three meters of snow and temperatures reaching 40 degrees below zero. We were not prepared for winter. Like animals we dug into the rock, afraid of freezing to death. The locals from around the place are kind enough, or scared enough, that they let us have blankets and bed linen. We haven't seen hide nor tail of the Bolsheviks, but we know they are watching and waiting. For what, we do not know. It is nearing Christmas and a few of our lower ranking men went out to find a small tree. With lit candles, the tree made the cold bunker seem so much more cozy and not terrible. I hope this winter does not last long, I can't stand this cold.
December 29th, 1941
"Cold Death": Today, a bad snowstorm has rolled in and has rendered us blind to the forests the Russians hide in. I was on a guard post trying to stay warm when I heard a faint sound. The sound began to gradually get louder. As it got closer, I realized what it was "ATTACK!" I yelled. Then, a artillery shell landed right ahead of the trenches we hid in and shook the ground. The sound of over 100 desperate Russians charging our encampment. The machine gunner raced with his ammo carrier to his gun emplacement and started spraying the area in front of us. No one could see where they were, we could only hear them. This resulted in every one firing into the storm, hoping their shots would make contact. The sound got louder until we saw the Bolsheviks through the storm. When that happened, everyone opened fire at once, the sound was deafening. This chaos went on for a good five minutes until the storm cleared a little more to show retreating Russians. In this entire fray, we lost a Commanding Officer, Berthold, and our newest recruit, Franz. They both died from shrapnel from the artillery blast. This is starting to become too much for me to handle.
August 20th, 1943
"Finals Hours": The Russians are stronger than we thought them to be. The retreating and constant skirmishes have left me unable to write. Our now new commanding officer informed us that a critical battle will happen very soon. We will storm Kursk and it's neighboring cities for a last chance to push the Russians back. He also told us that the Americans have landed in France and Italy. A two front war. I am doubting Germany's chances at this war. Already two Generals of ours have surrendered. Me and my squad mates all doubt our chances at Kursk. Moral is low. Most of us will probably die in this battle. I hope I can one day write again.