My Friend, The Waffen SS Soldier (2)

Part Two: More About The War

1

The first story that Theodor Junker ever shared with me about his years on the Eastern Front, at war with the Russians, was his very first deployment. 

He was originally sent out as a sharp-shooter. I do not know where he was during his first deployment to the front, but what he told me was that his group was approaching a tree line when an unseen enemy shot went off (I do not recall whether or not it injured any of Mr. Junker’s fellow soldiers). They all looked for the enemy sniper, especially where trees grew, as would be most logical, but they were unable to locate him. Theo was sent to the front to have a look since he was the sharp-shooter of his group. But even he was unable to spot the adversary. 

He told his comrade, Wega, to watch him at all costs as he scanned the tree line in front, but a shot came and struck Theo through his left arm and exited out of his back (it was later noted that the bullet missed his heart by less than two inches). Theo then finally figured out where the shot came from, and he scolded his dear Wega for his failure to prevent his wounding. The enemy was actually in a trench, or foxhole of some sort, that was only ten yards from where they'd walked to – no one saw it. So, Theo told Wega to give him cover fire while he took care of the enemy sniper: He ran forth to the mound of earth behind which the enemy was located, and he jumped over the mound and used his bayonet to bring the sniper to his earthly end. He told me that he finished the Russian with a thrust through the neck. He also told me that he was not a Caucasian Russian, but had “slit-eyes” (those were his actual words). 

After his wounding, Mr. Junker was taken from the Front to be treated in a hospital – again, I am not clear on the specific details of where and when and for how long. After he was healed up, he requested to be sent immediately back to the Front, and he was given his wishes. However, Theo was never sent out as a sharp-shooter again: rifles were running low, so his was immediately recirculated back into use by another soldier.

2

Herr Junker was wounded six times in total, and right off the top of my head I am not able to remember the details of them all. But there is one that I recall that is quite interesting. Herr Junker loved to tell this one:

After Junker’s return to the Front, he always carried around the MP 40, which was a machine pistol; and boy did he ever love that thing! He would tell me “RC, you’ve never seen someone use a weapon like me with my machine pistol!” And I can only imagine... 

Herr Junker was a true soldier: He was neither afraid of battle nor regretful afterward. He enjoyed the thrill of competing with death, and he understood that to kill was only a part of warfare. He was never resentful toward his slain opponents – never once in our years together did he ever say an unkind word about the enemies he faced on the battlefield: He knew that they were all there with a duty just like he was. He always said that he never blamed any army, and that he respected them all because they were all just fighting for what they believed in and what they were told they were fighting for by their governments – even when their governments were lying to them. 

Anyway, to continue with the story, Herr Junker was marching out front of a line of his men one cold winter's night toward a farm (they were looking to hunker down in one of the barns) when he spotted a line of Russians walking in the distance. He said they were all drunk and cheering, so he and his men engaged them in combat: He raised his beloved machine pistol and opened up on the entire line – “…they all died”, he told me. But before they all died, one of them managed to hurl a grenade right at him, and it landed in the snow not more than a couple of yards ahead of him. He had no time to move: it went off, and the force of the blast was concentrated between his legs... Yes, he took a grenade blast to his manhood. 

Once again Herr Junker had to be rushed from the Front, but this time it wasn’t going to be so easy for him. He was losing blood quickly so they had to tie his manhood off at the base (which he told me was hell because he had to urinate, and it was an EIGHT HOUR train ride to the nearest medical facility). Once again, they managed to fix him up. And once again, he demanded placement on the Front. 

* * *

Theo always loves to tell this story because he went on to have four children. He would always finish the story by saying the enemies could never kill him because god had a plan for him, and that it was proven because even a grenade blast between the legs could not stop him from having four children! Gods, did I ever love hearing him tell that story – even if I did hear it a hundred times in five years, lol. 

He would always tell his war stories as if he were still that young man living them right there. And the stories never altered in detail: not one single detail ever changed in his stories from the Front.

3

Herr Junker’s body was badly scarred up from all of his wartime wounds. His back had a grapefruit sized scar that looked like an inactive volcano from where the sniper round exited his body. His hand was badly damaged: his ring and pinky finger stay close together, and the knuckles of his middle and index fingers are three times the size they should be. But he always talked about his wounds with a bright smile on his face (his face would even glow a bit red). He spent his summers in the back part of the property, bathing in the sun and swimming in the pond, and he displayed his wounds proudly as badges of honor.

* * *

Herr Junker and I did not spend anywhere near the majority of our time discussing the history of his war experiences, so I do not know them all. And in all honesty, I was not as concerned with his war stories as much as I was with just knowing a true, first-generation National Socialist who got to see the grand glory that was National Socialist Germany. I will devote some time to writing about what he told me about the inner workings of the NS German society. I can assure you that it was everything we think it was and then some. It was more glorious than what most of us here may realize.

* * *

It's difficult for most today to imagine the nature of warfare during the World Wars. It's difficult to understand the great degree of daring that was required of men - a sort that isn't a part of modern warfare: Theo, with his beloved machine pistol, would actually jump aboard Russian tanks and fire into the open turret and render entire tanks neutralized. I always believed Mr. Junker about most things, but I was somewhat skeptical about this one – but years later I was shown by a young World War Two enthusiast that, yes, the Waffen SS would literally jump onto Russian tanks and throw grenades inside or shoot the Russians inside in order to stop them. ...Dear gods, I could never imagine doing such a thing... But when the Germans were low on their own tanks, they didn’t turn and run from a tank-fight: they literally went man-to-man with the Russian beasts of steel. 

Theo would tell me about how he climbed on top, dropped the barrel of his MP inside, spun it in a circle with the trigger wide open, and then he would jump off and move on to the next one before the damned thing had even stopped moving. He always laughed humbly. He tried to remain modest about his daring and bravery, but he couldn’t help but exude pride in his courage and experiences. I don’t blame him.

4

In the second to last Summer I spent with him, Theo revealed to me and several friends a story that he had never shared before. He told me about a time he was in an unused farmhouse – again, on the Eastern Front – with his fellow soldiers, and they noticed a Russian tank stationed around the back side of a barn: It was waiting to ambush any Germans that may be passing through. The young Herr Junker and a comrade had a panzerfaust with them, and they struggled to get the front of it out through a very small window in the attic or some small room at the top of the house. During that time, the Russian soldier keeping watch atop the tank noticed them and had the turret turned to wreak havoc on the house – and it did: It sent a round right into the room where they were. It missed Theo, but it wounded his comrade. The actual massive round must have hit his hand directly because Theo said the hand was completely gone, but there was no blood: the wound had cauterized. He said to me “I’ve never seen such a thing. His whole hand was gone, but there was no blood anywhere.” 

I do not recall the rest of the details of that story. I know he told me the whole thing from beginning to end: why they were headed that way, and what happened afterward, etc., but I just cannot remember that right now.

My Friend, The Waffen SS Soldier (1)

Part One: A Brief Introduction

Originally written 29 July 2013

Edited and updated 10 April 2018

I was fortunate enough to have had a dear friend for some five years who was a retired veteran of the Waffen SS Wiking division: His name was Theodor Junker. He was born in a German village in Romania, and he retired on a small farm in southern Wisconsin. 

From the years of 2005 through 2010 I visited him every weekend.

Theodor Junker

13 April, 1919 - 14 April, 2013

1

He was a surprisingly humble person, so much so that it humbled you just to be in his presence. He had a quiet tone of voice, yet he was not shy about speaking. He talked a great deal, and talked about a great many number of things. But mostly he loved to talk about Nature, and all of her various forms. Yes, he spoke often of the War, and he spoke often of Adolf Hitler, National-Socialism, and of the Reich. He also spoke of the Jews and the Aryans. But he was far from the Jewish-conjured image of a stereotypical "Nazi." 

Herr Junker loved all things Nature, particularly that which pertained to human health. His primary passion for employment was always farming, agriculture: he raised and sold chickens (mostly for eggs) and pigs mostly. In his later years he raised and sold ducks as a hobby (I can't tell you how ridiculously difficult it is to round up a flock of ducks from a pond with paddle boat and three shirtless yahoos running around flapping their arms, lol). So, naturally, his love of farming eventually translated into a passion for human health: What is the most natural way of human eating. He was also very fond of Nature's "secret" medicines (he literally ate whole cloves of garlic, raw, after he spent years of studying their health benefits).

His love and passion for natural holistic health was also very strongly motivated by the death of his wife, who was taken by cancer.

2

Theo was always happy, even on a bad day: Nothing ever brought that guy's spirits down. There were times when he would be recounting an age-old story about the War, about the struggles and suffering that he endured on the battlefield of the Eastern Front against the Russian Bolsheviks/Marxists, and he would beam with a youthful joy: the color would rush to his face, he would smile widely, and laugh heartily, and he would glow. His energy was palpable even in his most humble moments. The only time that Theo grew serious was when recounting his years in British captivity after the war, being driven from his village after captivity (the Russians took his village and basically gave it to Jews and Communists - some 17 million Germans were driven from their homes in various countries), or telling of how badly the Russians treated the Germans. 

What would probably surprise people the most was how Theo talked about the Jews - which he did talk about often. He would always tell me (and I mean ALWAYS, lol), in his thick German accent, "Be glad ven you have enemies." That was one of his mottos, and he would elaborate this motto at length, in great detail. He told me that without enemies we become soft, we grow complacent, and he even blamed senility on the absence of mental combat. He said that having opponents keeps you sharp mentally and keeps you young physically. He said that without his anti-NS opponents over the years, he would have been reduced to senility many years ago (I met him when he was 85 or 86 years old). So he literally thanked the Jews for being so vehemently anti-NS: He said that the stronger your enemy is, the greater was your potential for increase of strength: Weak enemies ensured weak people.

He praised the Jews for being such a powerful enemy, because they would guarantee that only the most powerful Aryans would survive, and thus strengthen our people. 

He likened Jews to foxes, not for their cleverness, but simply for their natural place in the grand scheme of life. Since there were always geese on the pond on his property, he would say, "The Jews are like the foxes: they make sure that the geese do not become overpopulated and get sick. If the geese overpopulate, they will get sick, and then possibly all of them will die. But if the foxes catch and kill the weak ones, the flock will remain healthy." He thought that Jews were only a part of Nature, and his sentiments toward them were stoic. However, Theo NEVER, under any circumstances, trusted Jews. Lol, I can still hear him now, talking about them being a race of liars, as casually as one might talk about cows having spots.

3

Theo Junker built the once-famous Honorary Hall for Adolf Hitler on his farm, which made major headlines in the summer of 2006. Sadly, the powers-that-be put every last ounce of pressure on him to make sure that his dream was crushed before it began: They made it illegal for him to have more than four people on his property at all times - including himself. His property was 120 acres large, and could accommodate thousands, and yet they passed a law saying that he could only have himself and three guests there at any time - including family reunions (any liberal reading this, just try telling me that the system favors neo-"Nazis"...).

For years afterward, whenever I would visit, there would be FBI helicopters that would occasionally fly over the property, lower themselves to the tree line and take the time to count the number of people that they could see. Once during one of these fly-overs, I was taking my friend's two children for a swim in the pond, and I can remember them being rather terrified and just looking at me, with horror in their eyes, wondering what was happening. I told them that it was just people flying over taking pictures of the farm, like lots of people used to do. It was sickening.

4

Theo was a great guy all around. Things were always casual at his place. Most of my days there with him involved nothing formal or professional. We'd sit in the back on the little sandy beach on the pond that he had paid to have built, our toes in the sand, just yammering about his life in the United States. 

Theo started off as a janitor in Chicago, and saved up to buy the farm in southern Wisconsin. He moved there and had four children. They used the property as a summer camp for other German families (until his wife passed away), and so I heard all kinds of neat little stories about how they spent their time. I heard stories about unique children that he remembered vividly. He told me how within the first week he could tell who the leaders were. He'd say, "In Nature, there vill alvays be two leaders: a good leader and a bad leader. And there vill alvays be two groups of people: those who follow the good leader, and those who follow the bad." He said that he would sit back and watch them, and every year it was the same thing: Two groups of kids would form: the good kids, and the trouble-makers. 

Theo was wounded a total of six times during the war, and some of them severe. He once took a Russian grenade blast directly between his legs. It landed several feet in front of him and went off before he could even run. He then had to take an eight hour train ride to a hospital capable of sewing his manhood back together. He said that they had to tie it off with string, which drove him insane, because for the entire eight hours he had to urinate. It was a nightmare. And yet, the guy managed to have FOUR children. Apparently those German doctors really knew what they were doing. 

Theo would do anything for you if you needed it. I can say with certainty that he was the most generous person I have ever met. He offered strangers the bed of his own room, while he would sleep on his couch. People came from all over the world to visit him, and I was fortunate enough to be there and give tours of the property alongside my dear friend. He would invite them to camp at his place and stay for weeks on end. He always said, "Dis is de best place in de vorld." And if they did want to stay, he'd let them stay in his own home and dine with him at his own table. Many times, while Theo was napping in the afternoon, I would be given the honor of giving the usual tour of the Monument to curious guests. I felt honored that Theo would let me handle the show while he was out of town or napping.

5

I know this is a bit of an aimless recounting of the years with my friend of the Waffen SS, so I will stop rambling for now. But if anyone has any specific questions, I'd be glad to answer them as thoroughly as I am able.

But I will end this by saying that Theo Junker remained loyal to Adolf Hitler and to National-Socialism until the last time that I saw him in 2010. He never once questioned his years of service in the struggle for Germany against Bolshevism on the Eastern Front, and he never questioned the NS worldview or its immortal Leader. He loved Adolf Hitler dearly and said that he was an SS until he died. Even during the years of threats of violence that ensued after his grand opening of the Adolf Hitler Honorary Hall he never questioned anything. He never feared the countless death threats that poured in daily. He always said, "I'm a soldier. I'll die for this."