Letters and Papers From Prison (22 page)

Tuesday, 30 November

I hope to get this letter off today. So I must finish. Try to stay in Lissa until after Christmas! Then perhaps we shall really be able to see each other again. What’s your address? How can I reach you immediately after my release by priority call or telegram? Keep well, you and Renate! God protect you. With all my heart,

your faithful Dietrich

R.
⁸¹
was too anxious at first to finish me for good; but he has now to content himself with a most ridiculous charge, which will bring him little glory. By the way, in case you ever find yourself in prison, I think that you ought to make a code here, before you go. In the months that have passed I’ve learnt as never before that I owe all the alleviations and help that I get here, not to myself, but to others. On earlier occasions I’ve felt that you suffer somewhat under the thought that you also owe much in your life to other men. But that is quite perverse. The wish to be independent in everything is false pride. Even what we owe to others belongs to ourselves and is a part of our own lives, and any attempt to calculate what we have ‘earned’ for ourselves and what we owe to other people is certainly not Christian, and is, moreover, a futile undertaking. It’s through what he himself is, plus what he receives, that a man becomes a complete entity. I wanted to tell you this, because I’ve now experienced it for myself, though not for the first time, for it was already implicit all through the years of our
vita communis.
I’ve certainly not received less from you than you from me.

Report on Experiences during Alerts

[28 November 1943]

The alert on 26 November led to the following experiences in the sick-bay of the Wehrmacht Investigation Prison, Tegel. As a result of one of the first bombs to fall in the neighbourhood, all the windows and black-out arrangements of the sick-bay were destroyed; a number of bottles of medicine fell out of the medicine cupboard, the floor was covered with dust and debris; the attempt to arrange a makeshift black-out failed as the bombs kept falling afresh. Shortly afterwards, a high-explosive bomb or land-mine demolished the prison wall about 25 metres away and did severe damage to the doors, windows and roof of the prison. Thereupon the prisoners under investigation, shut in their cells, began to beat wildly on the doors and scream, and the wounded cried for help. In the general tumult which arose, not to mention the explosions of bombs, it was impossible to ascertain where the wounded really were. The staff of the sick-bay opened a number of cells and discovered some minor wounds, but immediate treatment was impossible as there were no lights in the sick-bay and it would not have been possible with those who were most severely wounded. Only after the all-clear could black-out be arranged and the treatment be begun…

The following consequences arise:

1. If medical care is to be provided in serious cases, the construction of a hospital bunker is required.

2. Medical corps members among the prisoners for interrogation are to be allowed out to help in the sick-bay as far as is possible.

3. Measures are needed which make it possible to find the wounded as soon as possible, and in present circumstances this cannot be done. If saving lives is the main concern, then it is necessary to release as many of the prisoners from their cells as possible and to provide slit trenches immediately.

4. Furthermore, the unfavourable effect on the morale of a soldier who is shut in a cell as a prisoner under interrogation for perhaps only a small crime and who has to suffer under a heavy air
attack without prospect of help at the right time is not to be underestimated…

To his parents

[Tegel] Advent I, 28 November 1943

Dear parents,

Although I don’t know whether and how letters are getting through at present, I want to write to you on the afternoon of the First Sunday in Advent. Altdorfer’s ‘Nativity’ is very topical this year, showing the Holy Family and the crib among the ruins of a tumbledown house. However did he come to paint like that, against all tradition, four hundred years ago? Perhaps he meant that Christmas could and should be kept even in such conditions; in any case, that is his message for us. I like to think of your sitting with the children and keeping Advent with them, just as you used to years ago with us. Only we do everything more intensively now, as we don’t know how much longer we have.

It still makes me shudder to think what a distressing night you had, with one really bad moment, without any of us with you. It really is beyond me why I should be kept behind bars like this without being able to help in any way. I do hope it will soon be over now with no more delays. All the same, please don’t worry about me. We shall come out of the whole business very much strengthened.

You will know already that we’ve had the expected attack on nearby Borsig. Now we have the (not very Christian) hope that they won’t be coming round here again just yet. It was not exactly pleasant, and when I’m released I shall make some suggestions about improving the organization here for incidents of that kind. Most surprisingly, my window-panes were unbroken, whereas nearly all the others are smashed. It makes it horribly cold for the other people. As part of the prison wall has been wrecked, there can be no more ‘exercise’ for the present. If only it were possible for us to hear from each other after the attacks!

It was marvellous to see you again. Many thanks for coming
and for everything that you brought with you. It’s a very comforting feeling to know that you are in Sakrow for the time being. Maria is not to come to Berlin now; even if she gets permission for a visit, let’s wait and see how things develop. What will happen about Renate? Presumably a confinement in Berlin is out of the question? But where will she go?

These last few days, I have been enjoying W. H. Riehl’s
Stories from Olden Times.
You may remember the book from a much earlier period. Today it’s just about forgotten, though it is still very pleasant and enjoyable reading; it would also be suitable for reading aloud to the children. As far as I can remember, we had a few of his works at home, but we’ve probably given them away since then to some collection or other.

It would be very nice if you could bring me the book on superstition. They are starting to consult cards here about the chances of a raid during the coming night. It’s interesting how superstition thrives in unsettled times, and how many are prepared to listen to it, at least with half an ear. Good-bye. Much love to all the family and the children. God bless us all. Thank you for everything.

Your Dietrich

From Eberhard Bethge

[Charlottenburg] 30 November 1943

Dear Dietrich,

How shall I begin, and what can I say to show you my delight? How shall I get into much too short a letter everything I say in the imaginary conversations I have with you when walking by myself, or talking with Renate? In the midst of the chaos of the attacks and the work that they cause, seeing you was
the
event for me, and getting such a good, long letter, the first from you. I’ve already read it many times, and I’m only sorry not to have the same peace and quiet that you had for writing. I was astonished to find you so cheerful on Friday and looking so well. Cheerful, fresh, not at all pale, and in everything, as usual, in command of the situation, a little concerned to communicate comfort and
confidence about your situation to us, no matter what. I’m tremendously pleased that we managed the visit. And then in the afternoon I got the letter with the splendid things…I’ve heard today that I’m probably going to Merano, so I shall need less warm things. When I had to wait for Chr.
⁸²
a whole hour outside Hans” cell, I had time as it were to devour your entire letter slowly. The biblical expression, that John ate the letter, is a very apt one, except: that it didn’t ‘make my stomach bitter’;
⁸³
that didn’t happen to Ezekiel, either.

Your letter showed me how different our two lives have been recently. In essentials I felt that military life brought me very close to you because of the loss of the ability to determine our own actions, which is so utterly unfamiliar to the two of us. I’ve thought of you in a new and different way since I’ve had to march and march endlessly in the column. And then I imagined that you would have to be beside me and how you would then have to bellow out the fatuous songs, and I had to have a good laugh at the two of us there in the silence…

Special thanks for the verses which you’ve written for me. I will most gladly take them in my briefcase on my journey into the unknown. Indeed, if only you could be a soldier with me! Here in Spandau the people were the sort that I would like to keep with. A remarkable esteem for and interest in such a curious and strange profession, especially among the eighteen- to nineteen-year-olds. In Lissa, of course, it is very different. The people are so orderly in every respect and so tedious, concerned with reliability and respectable views.
⁸⁴
I’m rather alone and therefore quiet. I get very sad when I think how you’ve been working and writing now and I hear nothing of it - and perhaps won’t for a long time. It was good that I was able to preach for so long; now I’m even to preach in Lissa, and am getting permission to do so. But the groups with which I had most contact are indeed
homines religiosi.

Unfortunately I’m now being constantly interrupted. In the meantime it’s already become 1 December, and with difficulty I have managed to extend my leave until Saturday. Will you be coming to the Lehrter Strasse before then, and shall I see you?…

Unfortunately no wedding sermon from you ever came into
our hands. Did you send it via R?
⁸⁵
No one knows anything about it…

Friday, 3

Now I’ve got to be off. The time I earmarked today for writing some more to you was suddenly messed up, as I was again called for against all the arrangements by car, and there was a puncture, which took up all the time. I’m very sorry to have to send you this fragment, but there’s nothing else I can do.

Warmest regards. I think of you a great deal and hope to see you soon.

Faithfully, with all my heart.

Your Eberhard

From his father

[Sakrow] 5 December 1943

Dear Dietrich,

I want to use this quiet Second Sunday in Advent for a letter to you. We’re out here in Sakrow, which is beneficial after a week spent nailing up windows, putting in glass and unsuccessful attempts to cover up the roof with quite inadequate material - carpets and boards; there are no nails, roofing felts, hammers, etc. I have an old male nurse from my clinic to help. I hope to be able to see some or other of the patients next week. Our health is good. When one is doing manual work the coldness of the rooms is not so noticeable. Our chief concern now is to keep the central heating from freezing up. The veranda, with 22 shattered panes of glass, is the main danger spot. It’s astounding how all the windows in your room are intact, although it’s exposed to the side on which the high explosive bomb fell. Nevertheless, there is still a possibility of making some rooms habitable. We must be thankful for that, especially when one sees some of the destruction elsewhere in the town. My old assistant Burlage, very close to me, has been killed in his air-raid shelter with 150 others. His wife escaped because she had gone out to rescue the dog. Zutt
⁸⁶
saved nothing but his case. By and large it’s encouraging and surprising to see how lightly, at
least for the moment, people take the loss of their possessions. Karl-Friedrich went back to Leipzig early this morning, concerned that the heavy attack on Leipzig might have caught his house; with the nearness of the water-tower, he’s not unjustified in worrying. We’re going to try to ring him this evening. I expect that mother wants to write, too, so I will close. I’m going to send in an application for permission to visit at the same time.

Affectionately, your father, who is quietly hoping for a Christmas together…

To Eberhard Bethge

[Tegel]
Advent 2 [5 December 1943]

Dear Eberhard,

I so much want to spend a quiet Sunday morning talking things over with you, and I’m so tempted by the thought that a letter like this might help you to pass a quiet solitary hour, that I will write to you, though I don’t know whether, or how, or where this will reach you. Karl-Friedrich appeared here quite unexpectedly yesterday and told me that you had only gone back to Lissa yesterday. I hope the time is not too hard for you. Your boarding-school upbringing has made you much tougher about some things than I am. How and where will the two of us be keeping Christmas this time? I hope that you will manage to communicate something of the joy which you always used to bring to the group of brethren to your fellow-soldiers as well. For the calmness and joy with which we meet what is laid on us are as infectious as the terror that I see among the people here at each new attack. Indeed, I think such an attitude gives one the greatest authority, provided that it is genuine and natural, and not merely for show. People need some constant factor to guide them. We are neither of us dare-devils, but that has nothing to do with the courage that comes from the grace of God.

My thoughts and feelings seem to be getting more and more like those of the Old Testament, and in recent months I have been
reading the Old Testament much more than the New. It is only when one knows the unutterability of the name of God that one can utter the name of Jesus Christ; it is only when one loves life and the earth so much that without them everything seems to be over that one may believe in the resurrection and a new world; it is only when one submits to God’s law that one may speak of grace; and it is only when God’s wrath and vengeance are hanging as grim realities over the heads of one’s enemies that something of what it means to love and forgive them can touch our hearts. In my opinion it is not Christian to want to take our thoughts and feelings too quickly and too directly from the New Testament. We have already talked about this several times, and every day confirms my opinion. One cannot and must not speak the last word before the last but one. We live in the last but one and believe the last, don’t we? Lutherans (so-called!) and pietists would shudder at the thought, but it is true all the same. In
The Cost of Discipleship
(ch. 1) I just hinted at this, but did not follow it up; I must do so later. But the logical conclusions are far-reaching, e.g. for the problem of Catholicism, for the concept of the ministry, for the use of the Bible, etc., and above all for ethics. Why is it that in the Old Testament men tell lies vigorously and often to the glory of God (I’ve now collected the passages), kill, deceive, rob, divorce, and even fornicate (see the genealogy of Jesus), doubt, blaspheme, and curse, whereas in the New Testament there is nothing of all this? ‘An earlier stage’ of religion? That is a very naïve way out; it is one and the same God. But more of this later when we meet.