MvR should be dead

Today was a day that is still fresh in my mind, but which also moved me deeply. A field service was held for the entire garrison, the soldiers and their families on the small parade ground, which is so pleasantly lined with greenery on two sides, very close to our house. It was a great farewell in the face of the eternal, a togetherness that only fate can create, which must now be borne indissolubly by all. Even before the service began, England's declaration of war on Germany had become known. There they stood now, our soldiers, who were our pride, like walls they stood on three sides of the square, on the still free flank the men and women in dark clothes, the parents, the sisters of our warriors, who would leave today in grey dress, tomorrow or the day after tomorrow. In the centre stood the field altar, with clergymen speaking, deep seriousness on all faces; one tried to remember this or that image that had become dear to one from happier days. Perhaps you would never see it again. The sky arched blue and cloudless over the solemn, beautiful picture, the light wind carried the humming of the church bells, we all sang ‘We come to pray...’ with great fervour. It was like a pledge, it shone through us all, and everyone felt: for the German people there is only victory - or doom. And now something happened to me that I couldn't believe. Acquaintances who greeted us did so with such shy cordiality that I was finally taken aback. They asked about Manfred, again and again, with such strange sympathy. Had my son returned from the patrol battles on the other side of the border? ‘Yes, certainly...’ But why was everyone asking so strangely, my God. What had happened? My knees became weak, they pushed me a field chair and I had to sit down. Then I heard that Manfred was dead and that his friend Webel was also missing or killed. Fear tightened my heart, but only for a moment. A certainty, a confidence that was based on nothing but itself, told me: it can't be, it's all a mistake, he's alive. And this trust in the inner voice had the effect that all anxiety fell away from me, that I soon became comforted, even cheerful...