Türkçe TercümeAs I presented my scientific studies on the presence and activities of Caucasians in the German army during World War II, I have seen that some circles are launching counteractions devoid of scientific content and purely ideological smear campaigns.
When I published the biographical work of General Sultan Klych Girey, one of the well-known Adygean TV producers, she interviewed me about the book at the "Caucasian Cultural Meetings" event held at the Yenikapı Event Hall from February 29 to March 3, 2024. However, this interview was never published due to pressure from certain circles in Maykop. Later, an article was published on a website called “Circassian Center”, portraying Caucasian volunteers fighting against the Stalinist regime in the German army as traitors, henchmen of fascist Germany. These were followed by a series of articles in Turkish titled "The Road to Drau," published in a well-known community newspaper in Turkey. These circles, who consider being pro-Russian, regardless of their Political color, an accomplishment, are attempting to sacrifice this tragic chapter of Caucasian history to their own ideological obsessions. Unfortunately, these circles, which consider Russians of all colors comrades, harbor an incurable prejudice against reading and researching published scientific works and primary sources, thus declaring and portraying every German as a fascist and genocidal. Naturally, they do not hesitate to hurt the souls of the Caucasian volunteers who resisted Stalin's terror in the German ranks.
In fact, my work titled "Caucasian Mountaineers in World War II," to be published soon by YTB Publications, will be a work that will put an end to this malicious propaganda. However, as a response to these polemics, which are increasingly gaining traction on social media, I would like to share with you a valuable piece of information as a brief exchange until the book is printed:
"So Hat Es Sich Zugetragen" (This is how it happened).
Click on the image to access the book
Otto Bräutigam’s memoirs “This is how it happened,” printed in Würzburg in 1968, is one of the rare sources that gives firsthand information from the German invasion of the Caucasus during the WW2.
In his memoirs, Otto Bräutigam, a senior official in the Nazi Reich Ministry for the Occupied Eastern Territories (RMfdbO) under Alfred Rosenberg, recounts how he was chosen in 1942 as “Bevollmächtigter des Ostministeriums für Kaukasusfragen” — the Ministry’s plenipotentiary for Caucasus affairs. While trying to recover from an illness in Germany, Bräutigam hears the German flag was raised on Mount Elbrus on August 21, and hopes for the liberation of the peoples of the Caucasus from “Russian and Bolshevik domination.”
The OKH (Army High Command) sought a liaison officer to coordinate political and military efforts in the Caucasus. A rivalry ensued between Rosenberg’s ministry and Arno Schickedanz, the planned “Reich Commissioner for the Caucasus.” Schickedanz wanted to send an entire staff of party officials, while Bräutigam insisted on minimal political interference. The SS, represented by Heinz Jost, tried to gain influence, but Bräutigam opposed his candidacy, seeing him as untrustworthy and dangerous.
Bräutigam viewed himself as uniquely suited for the role due to his diplomatic experience in Tbilisi, Batumi, and Baku (1923–1940). He envisioned a “liberation policy”: restoring local self-government and avoiding the repressive practices of the Ukraine administration under Erich Koch, which he saw as disastrous. His differences with Schickedanz grew as the latter pushed for a colonial-style administration. The Wehrmacht supported Bräutigam’s moderate line, distrusting the SS and party functionaries. Eventually, with Hitler’s implicit approval, Bräutigam was appointed plenipotentiary, though his mandate included the clause that he would later be replaced by SS-Brigadeführer Jost.
Before departure from Germany, Bräutigam wrote a confidential memorandum criticizing German policies in the occupied East. He condemned the inhumane treatment of Soviet POWs and the forced labor recruitment methods, calling them akin to “medieval slave hunts.” He warned that Germany would face defeat in the East unless its policies won the cooperation of the local population. This memo, later found in Rosenberg’s files, became known in the Nuremberg Trials as the “Bräutigam Document.”
Upon arrival (November 23, 1942), he was integrated into the military administration under General Wagner and General von Kleist. Bräutigam wore the little-known “Ost-Uniform” and noted the soldiers’ confusion about his ambiguous civilian-military status. He worked with the Abteilung Kriegsverwaltung (military administration), seeking to harmonize civil policy with military needs.
— End of collective farms and restoration of private agriculture.
— Ban on forced labor recruitment.
— Respect for local customs and national pride.
Bräutigam built a friendly rapport with General Staff officers, noting their disillusionment and recognition that military victory without political strategy was impossible. He observed that many officers viewed him initially as a “party overseer,” but came to appreciate his pragmatic, non-ideological approach.
Bräutigam illustrates the contradictions between the Wehrmacht’s local cooperation policy and Berlin’s colonial economic directives:
The Karachai had established a local self-government under a capable German field commander who ruled “as if he were the country’s prince.” Their main source of income was forestry. The Karachai government claimed ownership of its forests as successor to the Soviet local administration. However, Berlin’s economic authorities (under Göring’s Four-Year Plan) insisted that all former Soviet state property automatically became German property, including forests, oil fields, and mines. Bräutigam, supporting his “liberation policy,” believed the forests should remain in local hands to maintain goodwill and legitimacy. When he asked for instructions, Berlin’s answer was negative: no exceptions to the rule of German ownership. But the Army Group’s quartermaster, acting independently, declared the forest to belong to the Karachai. This caused uproar in the economic offices (especially the Wirtschaftsinspektion Wiln). Bräutigam refused to overrule the quartermaster, praising his “manly decision,” even though Berlin later reprimanded him for not preventing it. He concludes ironically that “the forest of this small and industrious people” became famous in German ministries — a bureaucratic curiosity symbolizing the absurdities of Nazi rule in the East. Karachais demanded Kislovodsk as their capital, claiming it had historically been theirs. Bräutigam declined to alter Soviet-era borders, arguing that they roughly corresponded to ethnographic realities.
As winter set in, news from the front worsened. The German 6th Army at Stalingrad was encircled. The Romanian flanks collapsed. Bräutigam notes that the failure resembled the problems of the Eastern Front during WWI — unreliable allies and a lack of clear political motivation. He criticizes Germany’s short-sighted, exploitative strategy. The Romanians and other allies saw no reason to fight for Hitler’s imperial ambitions. Despite his forebodings, Bräutigam admits he still believed in the infallibility of the German General Staff at that time.
Bräutigam recounts in vivid ethnographic detail the religious and festive gathering organized by the Kabardians and Balkars on December 18, 1942, in Nalchik. The event celebrated religious freedom and liberation from Bolshevism. The local field commandant invited Bräutigam as the highest political representative; several German generals attended. The feast included roasted lambs, local delicacies, and milk-based drinks. The Kabardians offered magnificent gifts: horses for Hitler, Keitel, and von Kleist (with gold and silver harnesses), hundreds of carpets, wool garments, fur cloaks (burka), and thousands of sheep and cattle as a donation to the Wehrmacht.
Bräutigam also describes meeting Dr. Theodor Oberländer, the Königsberg professor who led the “Bergmann Battalion”, a special formation composed of Caucasian volunteers recruited from POW camps to fight the Soviets. Bräutigam praises Oberländer as intelligent, brave, and independent-minded (and notes that he had quarreled with Gauleiter Koch). Oberländer had trained his men in alpine warfare in Mittenwald, since even native mountaineers lacked climbing experience. The unit was initially meant for airborne operations in the Caucasus, to be dropped by parachute into their native areas to rally anti-Soviet forces. Instead, they were used conventionally at the Terek Front, suffering heavy losses — a misuse that saddened both men.
He also recalls meeting Walter von Kutschenbach, a German colonist from Tiflis whose family had been killed by the Bolsheviks — a symbol of the personal vengeance motives among Caucasian volunteers.
On 19 December 1942, Bräutigam visited Gundelen, the Balkar capital near Mount Elbrus. The elders greeted him warmly and begged for the release of their sons held as Soviet POWs. He was surprised they were still imprisoned despite earlier orders to free Caucasian prisoners. The Balkars hosted a feast of lamb and local wine, which Bräutigam compared favorably to German Moselle wines. He recounts a humorous incident with the chief of police, who refused to walk on foot inside the town “lest he lose prestige.” A horseback ride into the mountains follows, during which locals show him a narrow stone bridge over a 500-meter gorge — a favorite spot of bandits and a test of courage.
After visiting Piatigorsk and Mineralnye Vody, on the return trip, he notices the empty railways of the North Caucasus — “no trains for four hours” — a foreboding sign of the coming retreat. He laments the inefficiency of German rail command, which insisted on peacetime procedures, while the Soviets ran their lines with ruthless improvisation. Bräutigam organizes a modest Christmas celebration for German officers and troops with local dances and songs in Stavropol. During the evening, he receives a rare long-distance telephone call from Berlin, a poignant moment of contact with home. He ends by noting growing rumors of a planned withdrawal from the Caucasus following the Soviet breakthroughs at Stalingrad.
From December 28 on, news filters in of Soviet breakthroughs near Stalingrad. Bräutigam complains that staff secrecy leaves him uninformed. He learns from subordinates that the Sixth Army is encircled; Hitler forbids retreat. His meeting with Field Marshal von Kleist confirms the hopeless situation: the army lacks fuel and food; surrender is inevitable within weeks. Bräutigam stresses the political consequences of a Caucasus retreat: “The trust of the Caucasian peoples will be forever shaken; their revenge under Bolshevism will be terrible.” He urges that any withdrawal be minimal, so as not to appear as a general defeat.
Bräutigam quarrels with Dr. Arndt, a War Administration officer, who is punished for telling him of the withdrawal plans. He protests to the Quartermaster (OQu) that such political matters must be communicated to him. With the OQu’s consent, he telegraphs Rosenberg’s Ministry, warning of catastrophic political effects among Caucasian peoples, and requesting that withdrawal stop at the Baksan Line (defensive belt along the Baksan River near Nalchik). A second telegram asks Berlin to halt further personnel reinforcements. In Berlin, these messages cause a “sensation”—Rosenberg forwards them directly to Hitler, only then realizing the seriousness of the front collapse.
Marshall Von Kleist advises Bräutigam to reduce staff and send civilians home. Secretary and adjutant Dittloff are dispatched to Berlin with oral reports. By early January, the Army Group “A” had prepared an organized retreat in five phases, first to the Baksan Line, eventually toward the Kuban bridgehead and Crimea. Bräutigam is appointed Deputy Head of the “Flüchtlingsstab” (Refugee Staff), responsible for evacuating pro-German civilians. He insists civilians who “had exposed themselves for us” must not be abandoned. Separate “refugee routes” are planned parallel to the main K-1 highway. He later recognizes the irony: by requesting this measure, he burdens himself with responsibility for its execution.
Bräutigam leaves Woroschilowsk by car with Oberst-Verwaltungsrat Hartmann of the Agricultural Department on 14 January 1943. Roads were icy; convoys jammed. Hartmann’s car slides into a ditch—Bräutigam never sees him again. He lodges overnight at “Drusag,” a former German agricultural concession near Armavir, which was under Wehrmacht control. The manager, a relative of General Warlimont, complains of sabotage; Bräutigam suspects poor treatment of workers. An SD-order arrives: all ethnic Germans in the area must assemble for forced evacuation westward—he remarks bitterly on SS arrogance over “their own Germans.”
Endless convoys clog the K-1 Caucasus Highway; trucks slide into ditches, bridges collapse, and temperatures plunge. He criticizes the German use of oversized heavy trucks unsuited for Soviet roads. Lack of fuel, coordination, and equipment reveals “a grotesque failure of German organization.” He meets refugees, field offices, and sees hospitals transporting wounded in cattle cars because hospital trains are unavailable. After four days trapped by snow at Tichoretsk, Bräutigam reaches Nowo-Leuschkowskaja, an intended refugee hub. The feared congestion never materializes—most evacuees have already passed through. He stayed with a peasant family, played Lotto with them, and praised their decency. Soon, orders arrive to move the refugee staff onward to Berdyansk on the Azov Sea. Disillusioned, he considers returning to Army Group “A” but is told the headquarters will soon move to Crimea.
Warned by von Kleist that Soviet armor threatens Bataisk and Rostov, he decides to flee immediately. His car’s clutch fails, then is miraculously repaired at a workshop’s last moment before evacuation. He reaches Bataisk, joins endless convoys over the temporary Don bridge, and spends 11 hours covering six kilometers. He marvels that Soviet air attacks never came—“a single raid could have destroyed everything.” After five nights, he resumes the road to Taganrog on 26–27 January. But the car’s axle finally breaks. Hitchhiking with naval officers, he reaches Army Group Manstein’s HQ. A rescue vehicle recovers his driver, Watzik, and the damaged car after heroic efforts. In Taganrog, he received the order from Berlin, which instructed him to return via OKH. The “Mission of the Caucasus” was finished.
Bräutigam’s narrative offers a rare firsthand depiction of the logistics, refugee management, and psychological atmosphere of the German invasion of the Caucasus in WW2. The narrative mixes bureaucratic memoir, self-justification, and romantic nationalism. Bräutigam portrays himself as a humane and pragmatic administrator resisting Nazi radicalism and SS brutality. His sympathy for the Caucasian peoples and defense of the Mountain Jews contrast with his underlying colonial paternalism and his blind faith in Germany’s “civilizing mission.” The narrative foreshadows the collapse of the Eastern project, as local alliances, military defeats, and moral contradictions converge.
Bräutigam concludes with melancholy self-vindication: “The greatest task of my life—returning freedom to the peoples of the Caucasus—remained unfulfilled.” He nonetheless takes pride in avoiding forced labor deportations, restoring mosques and churches, and local administrations, winning genuine affection from many Caucasian peoples, cooperating harmoniously with Marshal von Kleist, whom he praises for his humanity.
Bräutigam portrays himself as a humane realist within an inhumane regime, emphasizing his opposition to SS excesses and belief in political strategy. As his own clear statements demonstrate, Dr. Otto Bräutigam was not a representative of racist Nazi policies. Like him, many other figures, such as General Ernst Köstring, General Ralph von Heygendorff, Professor Theodore Oberländer, and Professor Gerhard von Mende, who were not part of Nazi ideology, fought to liberate the peoples of the Caucasus from Stalin's terror.
As Ramazan Trakho, one of the distinguished Adyghe linguists who fought as a volunteer against Stalin's Red Army during this period and defected to Germany after the war, stated, Caucasians didn't even know who Germans were or what they looked like. What made them Hitler's allies in this war was the terror and massacres inflicted by Stalin's terror in the Caucasus. By being Hitler's allies, they were not pawns of German racial policy or complicit in the war crimes committed by the German war machine. Similarly, the majority of the leading German figures the Caucasian volunteers interacted with were too honest to be equated with Hitler and some of his lunatic associates.
Indeed, no charges were brought against the individuals mentioned, as was the case with Bräutigam, at the Nuremberg trials. On the contrary, some of them were prosecuted or executed for the assassination attempt on Hitler, or they testified in court against many prominent members of Nazi Germany during the Nuremberg trials, who committed war crimes.
Therefore, not all Germans were racist, perpetrators of genocide, nor were Caucasian volunteers mere henchmen of the Third Reich's racist policies.
Otto Bräutigam, who penned these memoirs and starkly revealed the truth through the eyes of a high-ranking German figure, served for a long time in the Federal Foreign Office after the war and passed away at the age of 97.
Cem Kumuk
Istanbul, 23 October 2025