Grenadier Rudolf Koch, #01

With links to some German folk songs

The German typographer Rudolf Koch (1876–1934) wrote a memoir about his experiences during the First War. I am translating it into English and posting a few excerpts as I go.

In this instalment, you will find links to the original German songs on YouTube.¹

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From a letter written while on the train to Belgrade

30 October 1915

We are quite comfortable in our carriages. It is not heated but, given the cramped conditions and our woollen blankets, it is warm enough. Once in a while a window needs to be opened to let out a thick cloud of smoke. A Bohemian peasant woman waves to us and, as we pull away, she wipes her eyes with the hem of her skirt. The overall mood is quite cheerful. A few of us are more pensive. We sing a great deal — all of the songs that really suit the situation. No one would say what he truly feels in words, but in song everyone can express it without shyness. It doesn’t count; other people do not take it seriously, and you can shout out your feelings and not be laughed at. As gloomy as it is, the song Morgenrot gives everyone courage:

     I will quietly submit to God’s will,
     And I will fight bravely.
     Should I meet Death,
     I will die a good cavalryman. 

But they change the last line to say “a good infantryman” instead of cavalryman. After that we sang Weh, daß wir scheiden müssen:

     Alas, we must part,
     Let me kiss you once again,
     I must ride at the Emperor’s side
     Into treacherous Switzerland

and then Heute scheid’ ich, morgen wand’r ich with the second verse:

     If, under the open sky,
     I should fall asleep on the battlefield,
     Out of my grave will bloom,
     Out of my grave will bloom,
     Sweet flowers: Forget-me-not!

The lads are very proud of the long journey that they are undertaking and send postcards to every acquaintance they can think of. One of them writes the name of each stop in his notebook. The region is very beautiful and everything is admired in great detail. The country folk all wave to us. In one farmer’s garden, a girl and boy were standing together. When the girl saw us, she threw her arms around the boy’s neck as if she wanted to keep him there. They both waved as we rode away.

“Farewell dearest! It is painful to part!”, postcard from the Sachsen-Anhalt Museum

1. It took me the better part of an hour to wade through all of the AI-generated garbage and find original German recordings (not glorified MIDI files playing atop images of sheet music). It’s just one ladleful of slop after another on YouTube now. Such a waste of time.