Before I write about the politics of the war as it came to my family in 1939, I should say a few words about my grandparents, who you see here in these photographs. On the left is my grandmother, in her WW1 nurse's uniform. She served as a nurse with the order of the Knights of Malta on the Italian front from 1914 to 1918. There, she met my grandfather, who at that time had recently graduated from medical school. They married in 1922; the photo on the right shows them on their wedding day. In a memoir, she wrote this about her arrival in the Alto Aldige of northern Italy:We set up a small hospital and soon had plenty of work. The hospital was bombed by planes, which used both light and heavy ordinance. If a 30.5 mortar bomb was shot at us anywhere in the area, the lids on the cooking pots jumped and jangled; the patients screamed. There was much work during the offensive. Often three days and nights straight without any rest for us. But it was a time in which one gave one’s entire strength for our beloved Fatherland. We helped the poor wounded and dying not only with physical and medical support, but also tried to help them emotionally, and provide them with maternal care.
I spent that first Christmas on the front far from my parents and siblings. We received a number of wounded with terrible head injuries, screaming, confused, dying. It was a ghastly night. I found leg amputations a most terrible shock, and in this operation I had to assist. I had to hold the leg of the poor man, and then as it was dismembered, it fell heavily into my arms. I remember the first detatched eyeball, and the reproachful look it cast upon you. We nursed and helped to the best of our abilities in the operating room.
I think it would be a fair characterisation to say that after their war experiences together, my grandparents had a very good idea about what was coming when war was declared in September 1939. Neither of them was political. My grandfather, who at the outbreak of the war held an important post as chief surgeon in one of Vienna's largest hospitals, was relieved of this position and sent to a smaller provincial clinic. The reason for this remains unclear, but I know it was a blow to him and a bewildering development for the family, whose lives orbited the twin hubs of Vienna and their house in Bohemia.
As the war became a part of their lives, it is clear from my grandparents' correspondence that there was a sickening sense of anxiety about the future, not only for the immediate family but for their world.
No one shown on these pages was a member of the Nazi party. The boys were drafted into the army as reservists when their time came--all reservists were of course required in combat. Those who had a career as "regular" army (ie officers) found that being Nazi party members was required for their advancement--something that was clearly embraced by the many enthusiastic members of the Nazi party. But certainly within the circle of the family described here, this was not the case. The only reference I can find in the war letters that refers to their life in the military is described as "wearing the grey uniform". Leo died with the rank of Private, Andreas as a Reserve Lieutenant. Rudolf, also a Private when the war ended, only survived because the Americans holding him prisoner divided enlisted men and officers: enlisted men were delivered into the American zone and survived, Officers were handed over to the Russians in command of the Russian zone and were shot.
A few statistics: Total losses for the Axis on the Eastern Front exceeded 4 million, most of these dying in the last two years of the war, and 3/4 of these during the final phases of the campaign described here. The Russians lost more than 10 million--these numbers do not include civilians, but represent military losses only.
