Letter, FHQ Wolfsschanze, 28 June 1941:
It is a companionable reunion in the inner circle, coffee and cakes again, etc. You can be sure after reading this that we shall not be returning any slimmer. Occasionally we visit our chef,[74] who came from the Mitropa and who cooks for us on our travels and follows us in all the HQs, in his highly professional, white-tiled kitchen equipped with the most modern electrical equipment, and scrounge whatever catches the eye.
We were very keen to give him a hand the other day, cutting bread, apportioning butter or making the salad garnish, but he simply does not want help. He is a small, slim, agile man whom the boys of the SS-Begleitkommando call ‘Krümel’◦– Lump◦– I do not know why◦– and the more work he has to do the happier he is, and the better he feels. He is a cook from passion, so to speak, and it is a joy to see how quickly and skilfully everything flows from his hands. In a trice he arranges something, not tossed together with a prayer, but always into a beautiful garnish. When one sees the happy Lump one realises how important work is for fulfilment and a feeling of contentment. On the other hand I often see myself as useless and unnecessary. When I think how much I do in a day’s work I come to the devastating conclusion: nothing. The wife of a plutocrat is active compared to me. I sleep, eat, drink and converse if I can bring myself to it. In a quiet moment◦– I cannot really change anything since duty condemns me to eternal waiting and readiness, until another blow is to be struck◦– I set myself a job (I have 1,000 words of French to learn)◦– but even here it is hard to get involved. I lack verve and motivation. Today I had to really force myself to finally provide you with a long report…
Meanwhile you have already heard the batch of Special Announcements for a whole week. The boss said this morning that if the German soldier deserves a laurel wreath it is for this campaign. Everything is going better than anticipated. We have had a lot of luck, e.g. the Russians stood at the frontier and did not allow us to make a deep penetration, which would have caused us problems on all our supply lines, and then by failing to destroy two bridges at Dunaburg.[75] That would have caused a great loss of time if we had had to rebuild the bridges first. I believe that once we have occupied Minsk we will then go forward all out. If there are a few Communists hidden in our soldiers’ ranks then they will certainly be converted when they see the ‘prosperity’ over there. I have talked to several officers who had the chance to look around Moscow.[76] It must be a miserable, harsh life for the Russian people. Their insecurity has been used to rob them and lead them astray. It would be interesting to experience something more authentic about it.
Letter, FHQ Wolfsschanze, 13 July 1941:
In our evening discussion with the boss the Church plays a major role. It is a pity that you cannot be there. It is all so enlightening what the boss says when e.g. he explains that Christianity with its lies and hypocrisy has held Western humanity back 2,000 years in its development◦– from the cultural standpoint. I really must start making notes afterwards about what the boss said, but the sessions last a ridiculously long time and one is by then◦– if not actually ready to drop◦– well at least so enervated and bereft of energy as to not feel like writing.
The night before last when we left him it was dawn. Instead of going to bed as normal people do we had a couple of sandwiches in the kitchen and then went for a two-hour run direct into the sunrise. Past horses and cattle in corrals, past hills of red and white clover simply fabulous in the morning sun. I could not get enough of it. Then we went to bed and spent three hours exhausted, unable to bestir ourselves. A mad existence, don’t you think? Such a weird occupation as Daranowski and I have would probably never offer itself again. Eat, drink, sleep, now and again write something and be sociable for hours on end. A new idea is to make ourselves useful for the boss picking flowers ‘so that his bunker does not look so bare’.
Letter, FHQ Wolfsschanze, 28 July 1941:
The last few days I have been miserable again. It is a thorn in the side of certain people that even in wartime the boss has his personal staff around him which obviously includes two females. An orderly told me about comments made at a late hour after excessive drinking in the officers’ mess and which have incensed me. At first I was going to take it up with the boss, for it is really a mutiny against him, a criticism of his directives and orders. We are not here from choice but only because the boss wants it and maintains that he can only work with us. He has emphasised more than once in the presence of these gentlemen that without us (Dara and me) he would have been in a pickle. Thus I find it arrogant and stupid of these officers to deprecate our presence.
I am exercising an iron reserve towards the parties involved and now they have a bad conscience. Probably it was not a pleasant situation for them when, just a few days after the comment, the boss asked the Wehrmacht adjutant if a tent was available for his ladies at the next HQ. Receiving the answer ‘No!’, in indignation the Führer ordered that a possibility for our accommodation had to be created immediately◦– yes, they had been thinking it would be just a short stay for a few days under canvas and we would not be needed. In all these excuses one sees their hope of ditching us by the wayside. But the boss would not let himself be persuaded. A coach will have to be provided for our beds and work, he said.
Earlier when I drank with them I laboured under the delusion that these people were friends, but now I see that the chats we had in those hours were not the outpourings of comradely sentiment but just the effect of the damned alcohol. These social periods changed nothing and created no friendships. The day after, I came across more hostility. Why such deception? It is a bitter fact to realise that one is abandoned and alone and that with the best will in the world and with the purest intentions no friendship is possible.
The men are all obsessed with one thing, to seize the best possible advantage for themselves and appear in the best light. They all want to be more than they are and do not realise how silly they look to those who see through them. The most ridiculous thing is when the boss is standing amongst some of these gentlemen and the photographer picks up his Leica. Then they all come streaming to the boss like moths to the lamp, just to get into the picture. This morbid need to be noticed is simply disgusting. Well, now I have had a good moan. But you can understand how this hollow society revolts me and therefore I had to let off steam again.
Letter, FHQ Wolfsschanze 20 August 1941:
Life has become rather monotonous. We have been here nine weeks already and we gather that we will be staying here until the end of October. That is really a wretchedly long time, little work, often nothing to do all day, always the same faces, the same conversations. I am so sick of this being condemned to inactivity that recently I attempted to convince the boss that he really needs only one secretary, for I kept the shop alone for years. But he stopped me at once, preventing me from making my point that I should spend the war employed usefully somewhere◦– either in a hospital or an armaments factory. Yes, I have no choice but to soldier on here.
A few days ago we saw a British newsreel which came from the United States. It showed the awful devastation caused to whole sections of streets in London. All the warehouses, the Parliament, etc. have been destroyed. Wandering over whole districts of the city, the camera showed the enormous fires, warehouse after warehouse a sea of flames. The commentary said that the British could take it because they knew that Berlin looked the same. If the poor British only knew that the damage they inflict on Berlin is a mere pinprick compared to London, I am sure they would not want to carry on. Captured British officers say themselves that their own government is acting irresponsibly. If the British◦– and moreover their officers◦– admit it, we can hope for the best to happen. I would like nothing better than that the British should sue for peace once we have disposed of Russia. The war with Britain can only lead to each of us reducing the cities of the other to rubble. And Mr Roosevelt laughs and looks forward to his British inheritance. It is really incomprehensible to me that the British do not see sense. After we have extended eastwards we do not need their colonies. I would find it much more practical if we worked together. The Ukraine and Crimea are so fertile, we can grow everything we need there and barter for the rest (coffee, tea, cocoa, etc.) with the South Americans. It is so clear and simple. I pray to God that the British soon see reason.
74
Otto Günther, 1937 employed on the Führer-train, and then at FHQ. He was on Kannenberg’s staff and cooked for the 150–200 personnel at FHQ Wolfsschanze.