October 1959 Frankfurt, Germany
Karla and Bruno walked up the steps of the administration building at Goethe University. They had agreed to give interviews about the journey of their lives after being asked by a history professor. As they walked through the front door, Karla laughed quietly, thinking about their stay in a hotel the night before. It was the first time in their lives that she and Bruno had spent the night at such a place, and they had been captivated by the television. Although television had been introduced in the 1930s, they’d never been able to afford the luxury of one. The stay in the hotel and the nine-hour train ride from their home in Kiel, Germany, to Frankfurt was an adventure that was tempered by their feelings of trepidation about dredging up old memories.
After they checked in at the administration office, Bruno and Karla were shown to a room with a dark-gray metal table surrounded by six matching chairs and walls painted a lighter shade of gray. The room felt drafty and cold. Karla wrapped her black coat tighter around her as she sat at the table quietly, lost in her thoughts.
Bruno stood at the window, looking at the clouds. The anticipation he felt was tinged with sorrow and dread as he gathered his thoughts and summoned the courage to recount his experiences in World War II.
He walked slowly to the table in the center of the room and looked at Karla with sad eyes that seemed to ask, Can we really do this? Needing something to do with his hands, Bruno walked to another table located against the wall opposite the windows. He perused the food and drink on the table, trying to focus his mind on the present moment until the interview began. He poured two cups of coffee from a silver carafe and placed a delicate, flaky croissant filled with sweet apricot jam and dusted with powdered sugar on a plate, then brought the snack to Karla, balancing the coffees carefully as he walked.
Karla thanked him and took the treat. Her face did not betray whatever emotion she might be feeling.
“Aren’t you nervous at all?” Bruno asked.
Before she could respond, the door opened and three people walked in, each carrying a notebook and pen. A man with glasses who looked like he was in his fifties carried a tape recorder stacked on his notebook, along with extra reels piled precariously on top of that. A young woman with hair pulled neatly into a bun and wearing glasses took a seat opposite Karla, then gave them a soft smile and began to write in her notebook. Another man, this one younger, acknowledged Bruno with a nod and sat next to the woman.
The older man spoke first. “Herr and Frau Arnold, I’m Doctor Schmidt, and these are my colleagues, Fräulein Neumann and Herr Peters.” Dr. Schmidt placed the tape recorder in the middle of the table and then sat in the chair at the head of the table, arranging his note book and pen in front of him before continuing.
He opened his notebook and perused his notes. “I know that you lived through two wars, and you are fifty and forty-nine years old?” He looked up for confirmation.
“I’m sure we look much older than that,” Bruno said jokingly. He looked at Karla for her input, but she only shook her head softly and gave him an impish smile.
Their love was a force that had long sustained them. But fourteen years after the end of the war, Bruno and Karla were still coping with its effects, just as Germany was still in the process of rebuilding and recovering from the conflict. Since 1949, the country had existed as two separate new states: the Federal Republic of Germany, a democratic country to the west, and in the east, the German Democratic Republic, which was run by the Communist leaders of the Soviet Union. Tensions between West and East Germany were palpable, and newspaper headlines regularly blared warnings about escalating conflicts. Meanwhile, citizens murmured anxiously on street corners, their nervous chatter reflecting widespread concern that another war could arise.
Dr. Schmidt and his associates were part of a research team that was interviewing survivors of the war. It was Karla who found the small advertisement on the third page of Kieler News. She’d told Bruno they should participate so the world could have a firsthand account of the terrifying experiences of war. Karla saw giving interviews as a way to confront the past and contribute to the healing process, both for her own sake and for future generations. Even after fourteen years, both Bruno and Karla suffered from nightmares and attacks of anxiety.
The U.S. army had interviewed Bruno extensively when he re turned from a Soviet prison camp after the war ended. However, the current research provided the university an opportunity to go deeper and create a more accurate historical record. These interviews elicited valuable firsthand accounts of life during the war, including the hard ships people endured, the atrocities they witnessed, and the resilience they demonstrated. Such interviews would later prove to be instrumental in preserving people’s memories of World War II and would make it possible for future generations to learn from the lessons of history.
Dr. Schmidt pointed to the voice recorder. “May I record your story?” He pushed the Record button when he saw Karla nod. “Now then, where would you like to begin?”
Karla was the first to speak. “To give you a deeper understanding of the experiences of the war, it’s essential that we first revisit the events that led up to its outbreak.”
Bruno rubbed his hands on his thighs and agreed.
The interviewers indicated that the couple should proceed. They were aware of the pivotal role the First World War had played in set ting the stage for the onset of the second, but they had come to listen to Bruno and Karla’s experiences, and they were eager to hear what the two had to say.
As Bruno and Karla began, the room changed. A moment before, it had been a simple university meeting room. Now, it became a repository of history—a place where personal stories intersected with the broader narrative of a nation grappling with the consequences of totalitarian rule.
