Transcribe
Translate
Take-Off, v. 1, issue 1, circa 1944
Page 8
More information
digital collection
archival collection guide
transcription tips
Page 8 TAKE-OFF! The days of fun are gone, Ma, The flags have been unfurled; And Deutschland stands alone, Ma, Against the raging world. Berlin, Rostock, and Hamnurg, Cologne, Bologne and Brest Burn on; the mighty war-surge Finds all, and gives no rest-- But on! though skies may darken, The German heart is true! The Front is calling--harken! The Panzers roll anew! We die, but nor forlorn, Ma! May you, and all our kin Enjoy the comin morn, Ma, And kriegtime in Berlin. ----------------------------- Our next poem is also a product of Germany, composed under artillery fire by Fritz Eingang von Achdulieber, who was infatuated with the German Army as a little child, and made his home in the barracks since he was five years old. His long association with the military earned him an international reputation, and in the course of his lifetime he has written four thousand stories and articles about his first love, the soldiers of the German Army and their devotion to duty. He fought against the Nazi political troops, but foreseeing the inevitable, divorced himself from the dwindling Reichswhr army and helped to create the modern instrument of destruction that ravaged all Europe before it was swallowed and partially digested at Stalingrad. Herr Achdulieber has a very real love for his Army, and in this marvelous piece of work reaffirms his faith that, despite casualties, it still is capable of inflicting minor disasters on its opponents. He further believes that it can never be shattered by air attacks. In spite of Nazi egotism and a thinly spread contempt for the Allies, this saga is a most stirring and sincere one, and we can recommend it unreservedly as an antidote for Prussian pessimism. The only queer obstruction is that this German ballad bears a faint superficial resemblance to stanzas CLXXVIII through CLXXIV of the fourth Canto of Lord Byron's Childe Harold's Pilgrimage". THE WEHRMACHT There is a pleasure in the Deutsches Reich, There is a rapture on the German shore, There is a snap of heels, a march to strike By the deep Rhine, and heilings in its roar. I love not France the less, but Deutschland more, From clubs of Strength through Joy, in which I steal From ranks I may be, or have been before, To mingle with the Herrenvolk, and feel That, long as blood is red, the Reich will never reel.
Saving...
prev
next
Page 8 TAKE-OFF! The days of fun are gone, Ma, The flags have been unfurled; And Deutschland stands alone, Ma, Against the raging world. Berlin, Rostock, and Hamnurg, Cologne, Bologne and Brest Burn on; the mighty war-surge Finds all, and gives no rest-- But on! though skies may darken, The German heart is true! The Front is calling--harken! The Panzers roll anew! We die, but nor forlorn, Ma! May you, and all our kin Enjoy the comin morn, Ma, And kriegtime in Berlin. ----------------------------- Our next poem is also a product of Germany, composed under artillery fire by Fritz Eingang von Achdulieber, who was infatuated with the German Army as a little child, and made his home in the barracks since he was five years old. His long association with the military earned him an international reputation, and in the course of his lifetime he has written four thousand stories and articles about his first love, the soldiers of the German Army and their devotion to duty. He fought against the Nazi political troops, but foreseeing the inevitable, divorced himself from the dwindling Reichswhr army and helped to create the modern instrument of destruction that ravaged all Europe before it was swallowed and partially digested at Stalingrad. Herr Achdulieber has a very real love for his Army, and in this marvelous piece of work reaffirms his faith that, despite casualties, it still is capable of inflicting minor disasters on its opponents. He further believes that it can never be shattered by air attacks. In spite of Nazi egotism and a thinly spread contempt for the Allies, this saga is a most stirring and sincere one, and we can recommend it unreservedly as an antidote for Prussian pessimism. The only queer obstruction is that this German ballad bears a faint superficial resemblance to stanzas CLXXVIII through CLXXIV of the fourth Canto of Lord Byron's Childe Harold's Pilgrimage". THE WEHRMACHT There is a pleasure in the Deutsches Reich, There is a rapture on the German shore, There is a snap of heels, a march to strike By the deep Rhine, and heilings in its roar. I love not France the less, but Deutschland more, From clubs of Strength through Joy, in which I steal From ranks I may be, or have been before, To mingle with the Herrenvolk, and feel That, long as blood is red, the Reich will never reel.
Hevelin Fanzines
sidebar
