How My German Great-Grandfather Invaded the Landsof My Dutch Great-Grandparents: An Anecdote on theImportance of Remembrance Culture
From the journal of F.W.B. Translation and note by his great-grandson, Björn Laurin Kühn.
28.03.1945
Four beautiful days at home are over. At 9 p.m., my train departs in the direction of Bassen. Never before has a journey felt so uncertain. Never before has saying goodbye to Anne and my parents been so hard.
29.03.1945
At night I made it as far as Oldenburg. Staying here until evening. Sat in the Red Cross day room at the station. A train is supposed to go to Groningen at 8:45 p.m. My thoughts are still at home. I read in Isaiah. Isaiah 28, verse 29 gave me courage. His counsel is wonderful, and He brings it forth gloriously.
30.03.1945
The train went as far as Zwolle. Arrival at dawn. At 12:20 a.m., it is supposed to continue to Utrecht. It is Good Friday. As far as possible, I gather my thoughts around Christ’s cross. Spent the day at the station command post. The train does not run. So I have to stay in Zwolle until Saturday night.
31.03.1945
Spent the day at the station command post. Slept a lot. In the afternoon, news arrives that the British and Canadians are advancing toward Apeldoorn. If they reach Zwolle, Western Holland will be cut off. Called the transport command to ask if travelling to Utrecht still makes sense. In Utrecht, everything is said to be unchanged. Around 1:30 a.m. the train departs. I feel like I am travelling into certain captivity, yet I know that God is guiding me.
01.04.1945
Easter! Around 5:30 a.m., arrival in Utrecht. The sight of the destroyed station was anything but Easter-like. Went to the transport command, met several acquaintances. Warm reception. But there is already a "withdrawal psychosis" going around. And yet I am supposed to go on to Geldermalsen. Read several Psalms. In the evening, the radio reports the formation of the “Werwolf Organisation.” I am outraged by this vile attempt to incite decent people to murder and bloodshed and to lure them into the shadows. The soldiers present feel the same way I do. It is clear that this whole Werwolf farce comes from Goebbels. The last desperate attempts of a bankrupt regime! For me, it has long been clear that all the promises that “something would soon change” were lies and deceit, and that continuing the war is a betrayal and a crime against the German people. But tonight, my hatred for the party leaders knows no bounds. And yet, it was Easter!
02.04.1945
A growing readiness to withdraw at the Utrecht transport command. A strange feeling, seeing others prepare for retreat while I must continue on. In the morning, I visited Lieutenant Colonel Krause of Railway Operations Company 203, who is stationed in Utrecht with a command. He spoke of needing to fight to bring about a change. If only he had known more about our true situation. I could only pity him for his view. In the afternoon, it became definite that the transport command would go to Assen in the direction of Groningen that night or the next day. On the street, I talked with several comrades pulled from the Wal-front, likely being sent to the burning IJssel front (though they did not know it). Their opinion was the same: everything is hopeless, pointless. Amidst the packing of crates at the transport command and the general chaos, I felt like an outsider, unnecessary, so I soon went to the Railway Operations Command 203. The farewell at the transport command was brief; I clearly sensed that the good wishes for my future and for military luck were just formulas, spoken with the certainty of soon being safe and far from the fighting. So I withdrew to an empty room to draw new courage from my pocket Bible. And in the evening, shortly before midnight, I boarded a locomotive operated by soldiers from my new company, heading to Geldermalsen. Around 1:00 a.m. we stopped on the “scratched” bridge over the Lek near Culemborg. The night was pitch black. Cold rain falls. Beneath the 800-metre bridge, which only allows one car to be pushed across at a time, the waters of the Lek gurgle. Above us, not very high, night fighters fly past from time to time. Good thing they cannot see us. Around 4:00 a.m. the shunting is finally done. Half an hour later we arrive in Geldermalsen, where the headquarters of Railway Operations Command 203 is located.
03.04.1945
Slept soundly for a few hours. Around 10:00 a.m. I went to the company commander to report. I know him from last year in France. We talked for two hours about everything. I stated plainly that the war is completely lost for us and that continuing it is a crime. My new chief did not seem entirely convinced of this; overall, he still seemed to believe in “revenge.” Nevertheless, when our conversation ended, I had the impression that he was no longer entirely certain in his views. For now, I have nothing to do. One notices nothing of the war. The news says the Americans are near Bielefeld and Herford, nearly at my home. I only hope they advance quickly so that the villages and towns are not destroyed and because I know that the war will not end until Germany is fully occupied. Who would have dared earlier to think or even say such things! I am staying in a tidy little guardroom with very nice older people. The old mother even wants to bring me hot water in the morning to shave. But I decline. In the evening, I lose myself in my Bible by petroleum light.
04.04.1945
The relocation order has arrived. The company is to take over railway operations on the Utrecht–Rotterdam–The Hague–Leiden line immediately. The blue-uniformed railroad workers here until now are to go to Germany. Other than the preparations for loading, there is nothing to do.
05.04.1945
Until today, I have written to Anne every day. Now it hardly makes sense, as no mail is being delivered. That is why I am starting to write these lines as a memory for later. Because the war will not last much longer, that is becoming ever clearer. I have already told several comrades that it will all be over by the end of May at the latest. How we long for the word: peace.
06.04.1945
Last night around midnight we travelled from Geldermalsen to Utrecht (again with long shunting on the Culemborg bridge). Then from Utrecht to Rotterdam. It’s already light when we arrive. Slept fairly long during the night despite the bumpy ride. We spend the whole day at Rotterdam station, lying in our waggons, sleeping, and brooding. There is still no decision on whether the company headquarters will be in Rotterdam or The Hague. We spend another night in Rotterdam.
07.04.1945
Saturday; unloading begins, so we are staying in Rotterdam. The office is to be housed in a building about 15 minutes from the station. For now, that is also my quarters. After setting up, there is nothing more to do. I read my Bible, especially the Psalms.
08.04.1945
Proper spring weather. But people pay little attention to it. What might things look like at home? How are the loved ones? That question keeps coming back. I try to suppress it a bit by turning to the Bible.
9.04.1945
Another move today. The office is to be relocated closer to the station. In the end, we end up in the station building itself. Our quarters are right by the station. I have a single room, so in the evenings I can immerse myself in my Bible without disturbance.
11.04.1945
In the evening, I travel to The Hague to prepare for the relocation of the company staff. I ride on a locomotive. Large areas of the country are underwater. Arrival in The Hague around 11:30 p.m. It is dark, it is raining. English bombers fly overhead, probably headed for Berlin. After a long search, I finally find a place to stay. I sleep almost until morning.
12.04.1945
Three years ago today, I was also in The Hague. Back then on a special assignment. Today the city seems dead compared to then. The quarters and offices have already been assigned by Lieutenant Colonel Zock. Fairly good. I have my room in Hotel Astoria across from the train station. In the afternoon, the company commander calls from Rotterdam, saying he wants to stay there. So the trip was in vain. If only all offices were not so unreliable and indecisive! I will not be able to return until Friday evening, as there is no train before then.
13.04.1945
The day passes doing nothing. I looked around the city. The courtyard of the palace with its beautiful fountain lies just as still as it did three years ago. At noon I learn that the train is not running, not until the following evening. There is nothing I can do. I have severe stomach and abdominal pain. I go to bed early.
14.04.1945
If only one knew something about home! The newspapers, if you can get one at all, are already several days old. And they say nothing. But even the Wehrmacht communiqués can no longer hide that the British and Americans are advancing unstoppably. If only it were all over. In the evening, a train to Rotterdam really does run. Around midnight we arrive. In pouring rain I find my way in the dark over the tracks to my quarters.
15.04.1945
It is Sunday again. I believe some people do not even realise it. If I had forgotten, I would have been reminded by the daily watchwords of the Brethren Church. One image in these days hurts me especially: many starving people. I have given pieces of my bread ration to some children and even adults. It was only dry bread, that is all I have too. I will never forget the looks in the eyes of those hungry people as they thanked me. Perhaps we ourselves will soon be in a position where we are grateful for a piece of bread given by compassionate people. And then I also thought of Christ’s words (Matthew 25:40: “Whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me”).
16.04.1945
In the afternoon comes an important message: the company will not stay but is instead, with immediate effect, assigned to the fighting troops. Probably initially under the command of the battle commander of the fortress of Utrecht.
17.04.1945
After lunch, I receive the order to ride a motorcycle to Utrecht to learn more about the relocation of the company and so forth. A beautiful ride in brilliant sunshine. The charming villages along the good road. What a shame the ride goes by so quickly. In Utrecht I speak with the battle commander himself, a pleasant older lieutenant colonel. We are to come as quickly as possible. After a short rest in Utrecht, I ride back. I report at half past six in the evening. Tomorrow we are to set off.
18.04.1945
I received a single, dear letter from Anne; she wrote it on 29 March, a day after my departure. One sentence especially brings me joy: that she entrusts herself and me to God’s hand, that God will protect us. I also have the almost certain feeling that this is true. Perhaps it is the daily Bible reading that gives one such confidence. A pity I can no longer write home, to say that I am doing well, that Anne and my parents need not worry about me. The relocation doesn’t happen today after all; now it is definitely set for tomorrow. So we sleep one more time in Rotterdam, which at first I found so unpleasant, but where I have since come to feel at home.
19.04.1945
Last night I had a brief conversation with a few soldiers staying in the same house. The occasion was Hitler’s appeal to the Eastern Front. No one believed his boastful and arrogant words. I called Hitler a criminal without hesitation, a man with millions of German lives on his conscience, our destroyed cities and villages, all the great suffering in every home. When you take it all in, an overwhelming rage grips you. I have never been able to stand the sight of blood, but I think that if Hitler, Himmler, and all the other brutal inhuman monsters were slowly tortured to death, I could watch. I just cannot understand how, even now, when the collapse is increasingly obvious, there are still people who can be enthusiastic about these crimes. Our train is fully loaded and ready at the station. Part of the company is coming from The Hague; the rest will be coupled with a few cars at night in Gouda. Everything proceeds according to plan. Around 4:00 a.m. we arrive in Utrecht.
20.04.1945
I have not slept at all during the night, but I was terribly cold. Until 6 a.m. we stay in the cars. I manage to nod off. 6:00 a.m.: assembly under the station hall. Then the unloading begins. Our accommodation is a fairly fortified house near the station. But it will be cramped. The move is in full swing when the company commander arrives with news from the commandant that the company will probably be moved again, rumour has it to Den Helder. That would be the northernmost tip of northwestern Holland. By the time the war gets there, I think to myself, it will be long over. For now, though, we do not know if we will stay here or not. Around 2:00 p.m. it becomes certain: onwards to Den Helder. The unloaded things are reloaded, and soon everything is ready to depart at the station. I had already thought Hitler’s birthday would go unmentioned today, but I was wrong, for at 7:00 p.m. we actually have to assemble. The company commander gives a few empty phrases, whether it is conviction or just lies, who knows? In the evening, as darkness falls, we set off in the direction of Hilversum and Amsterdam. At night we stand still for quite a while. At times my eyes fall shut. I have no idea how far we have gone. From time to time there are loud detonations—probably demolitions.
Rewriting the past? How the AfD challenges Germany’s culture of remembrance
Personal stories like these are common in families across Germany. Yet many grandparents and great-grandparents remain hesitant to speak about their experiences during the Second World War, and many descendants avoid confronting their own family’s past. As the number of living eyewitnesses continues to decline rapidly (RND, 2024), preserving and discussing these memories has become more urgent than ever.
“Adolf Hitler was a leftist” falsely declared Alice Weidel (DW, 2025), co-chair of the far-right Alternative für Deutschland (AfD), during a conversation with tech billionaire Elon Musk. In a similar vein, former MEP Maximilian Krah reiterated during an electoral campaign event: “I want you to honour your ancestors (…). Our ancestors were not criminals” (NZZ, 2023). Likewise, MEP Marc Jongen launched a direct attack on Germany’s deeply rooted culture of remembrance: “The effect, ladies and gentlemen, is quite clear: young people are systematically brought up to feel guilt and shame about being German. They learn to associate Germany with evil” (Deutscher Bundestag, 2019). Alexander Gauland, member of the German Bundestag, went even further and argued that “Hitler and the Nazis are just bird shit in more than 1,000 years of successful German history” (DW, 2018). Over the past decade, such rhetoric has become increasingly common, as far-right parties have gained more political influence not only within Germany but across the European Union. Yet, verbal attacks against Germany’s culture of remembrance increasingly turn into physical acts, as evidenced by a growing number of right-wing assaults on memorial sites across the country (Deutschlandfunk, 2024). The questions that remain are the following: Has Germany’s culture of remembrance failed, and if so, what can future generations do better to improve it?
To begin with, Germany’s culture of remembrance has generally not failed but is under severe attack from the right-wing political spectrum. These attacks, both rhetorical and physical, aim to delegitimise the consensus on confronting and reflecting on the nation’s historical responsibility. What future generations must therefore do is not to abandon the deeply embedded culture of remembrance but to actively defend, adapt, and deepen it. A first step, albeit a small one, should be to investigate one’s own family history, as I have tried to do with the diary of my German grandfather. Consequently, in doing so, future generations can preserve the past, not as a historical burden but as a genuine possibility to learn from the past and improve the future.