My Precious, Just Imagine the War Is Over
A Brief Love in Letters

The author of the two diaries and the field post letters presented here served as a soldier starting on September 9, 1941—presumably with the staff of the 1st Battalion (Btl.) of the 272nd Regiment (Rgt.), 93rd Infantry Division, 38th Army Corps (A.K.), Army Group North—which was deployed in the Baltic region and adjacent areas. Prior to this, he had served as an occupation soldier in France.

Lothar Gruber was born on April 29, 1922, in Stuttgart-Zuffenhausen. Little is known about his life beyond what is recorded in the letters and diaries.

In civilian life, he was a machine fitter, and there are several photographs showing him in the Hitler Youth uniform. It is not known whether he was a member of the NSDAP. However, apart from the letter dated February 6, 1943 (No. 24), there are no references to racial ideology. That letter is the only one in which the word "Jews" appears.

From this, one can conclude that Lothar Gruber—even when a German victory still seemed likely—was at least not a fanatical National Socialist. In September 1942, he was awarded the Iron Cross in Chablino (Szablino?). He was promoted to the rank of *Unteroffizier* (non-commissioned officer) on March 18, 1943.

The letters are addressed to his great love, H.G. The two got to know each other better and fell in love during his first leave from the front in 1942. An unbroken correspondence followed.

They became engaged during his next period of leave from the front in 1943 and were married in 1944. Consequently, the couple had only three brief opportunities—each lasting a few weeks—to be together; for the rest of the time, their relationship was maintained through correspondence. This explains why the letters are positively dripping with terms of endearment—though only a small fraction of these declarations of love has been included in this collection.

One positive outcome of this separation is the wealth of love letters that have survived; many of them help paint a comprehensive picture of that era from the perspective of an ordinary soldier. These letters, long thought lost, were discovered in a box in the attic in late May 2006. Reading them completely overturned everything I had previously known or believed about Lothar Gruber—even the year and cause of his death.

The letters and excerpts were selected to cover not only military events but, as far as possible, everything that helps illustrate life in the Third Reich from the viewpoint of an ordinary soldier—history from below, so to speak. They contain references to radio broadcasts featuring music, films, speeches by Nazi leaders, food, moral attitudes, the delivery of field mail, and, of course, observations on the political, social, and military situation.

Overall, the letters paint a far more vivid picture than the sparse entries in the war diaries. Unfortunately, however—with few exceptions—the letters contain no indications of location; presumably, including such details was prohibited. Nevertheless, the location data found in the photographs and diaries provide an almost complete geographical overview of the final months of 1942 and the year 1943.

A number of letters have been omitted because they contain no information of general interest, though some letters are missing entirely. The numbering of the letters begins on January 1, 1943. Field mail does not appear to have been routinely censored, and the writer evidently did not anticipate such scrutiny prior to early 1943.

This can certainly be inferred from the fact that he clearly expressed his longing for the war to end as early as 1942, and even went so far as to mention the hypothetical possibility of deserting and returning home.

Although he explicitly asks in letter no. 21, dated February 3, 1943, whether his letters had ever been censored, this seems to be linked more to the missing wallet mentioned in his diary entry from January 24, 1943. However, he also shrewdly used the fact that letters were being monitored to his advantage while in prison—knowing that censorship was likely taking place (as seen in the unnumbered letter from Deba dated August 11, 1943, and those that followed).

The worse the military situation became for the Germans, the more frequently spot checks and letter inspections appear to have been carried out. "Defeatism" was ruthlessly prosecuted. It must never be forgotten today that during the last world war, more than 30,000 German soldiers (with estimates reaching as high as 50,000!) were executed for various offenses; in the First World War, the figure was 48. Especially in the final months of the war, the number of executions ordered by drumhead courts-martial reached absurd levels.

Gruber’s comments on the war situation—which stand in curious contrast to his war-weariness—were likely linked, in part, to this censorship. Yet, like almost all Germans at the time, the soldier Gruber certainly believed in a German victory in 1941 and even into 1942; it was likely only the defeats on the Eastern Front in 1943 that made the inevitability of ultimate defeat clear to him.

Nevertheless, he too viewed "the Russian" as an enemy against whom the homeland had to be defended at all costs. This view was likely shared by many beyond just committed National Socialists. This is one reason why desertions on the Eastern Front were relatively rare, even in hopeless situations.

The Nazi leadership had evidently succeeded in reframing the war of aggression as a preventive war of defense; furthermore, the terror of Stalin’s Bolshevik regime served as a deterrent that influenced even those who cared little for Nazi ideology.

As is common—though not exclusively—in totalitarian systems, the terror perpetrated by the regime itself was suppressed and kept out of public discourse as much as possible. Naturally, totalitarian regimes possess greater means for such manipulation, which gave rise to the myth regarding the "weakness of democracies."

However, no proof was ever established regarding the fundamental superiority or inferiority of one system over the other in terms of power politics, given that in this—humanity’s largest and most brutal war—one totalitarian regime defeated another. Cynics might call it a draw.

The diaries are reproduced in full. Only two of at least three diaries (1941, 1943, 1944) have survived; the second (from 1943) was presumably damaged by a child, and several pages are missing. It is highly likely that a diary existed for 1942 as well. Gruber was probably carrying the 1944 volume when he was killed (see Letter 298). The daily routine is described in brief, note-like entries, which often consist of little more than the phrase: “All quiet again today.”

Nevertheless, the diaries provide a good overall impression of life at the front. Naturally, one should not expect descriptions of combat in the style of a war novel or gripping narratives; the writing seems rather mundane and was, of course, never intended for publication. It served more as an aid to memory—a way to recall a great “adventure”—which was especially true of the small notebook from 1941, a time when everyone still believed in victory.

Indeed, early in the war, the author seems to have enjoyed being a soldier and was ambitious in that role. This is hardly surprising, given that—as the records show—he had enlisted for a twelve-year term of military service in early 1941, at the age of eighteen.

After some consideration, and given the passage of time, I have decided to include the full names of the individuals mentioned in the diaries. The spelling has been retained exactly as it appears in the originals, with the exception of the author’s habit of placing a comma before almost every “and”; these commas have been omitted. Naturally, there may also be errors on my part arising from the transcription of the letters and diaries.

Ochsenhausen, June 2006

Peter Engelhardt