translations: page 3a, letter to Karen's grandmother, Page 4, obituary Max Baldner
Prof.Dr.Kurt Hueck Berlin-Zehlendorf
October 8, 1946 Laehrstrasse 9
Liebe Frau Baldner!
I discovered by coincidence the other day in the papers that Berliners have been left with the immense loss of your husband.
Your husband and I met during a time in life when it becomes rare to find a friend. It was during the days in Halle and Leuna. Right now during these dank and damp Fall days my memories of that time revisit me in their terrible palpability. Those days in which we and so many others were torn away from the midst of our families. I see us in my mind eye during roll call at five in the morning after sleepless nights. I see us as we were counted like cattle and were driven to work staggering in our wooden shoes through the dwindling night.
I don't know if your husband ever let you know the full extent of the gruesomeness of our situation. What I want to tell you is how much your husband thought of you and your children in those hard days, and also how much he inspired all of us.
For weeks we were coerced not only by words to give our last bit of physical strength. Together we dug up sand and carried it from one place to another as we were ordered. Over and over again, increasingly faster and for oppressively monotonous hours. If we stopped to catch our breath and wipe off our sweat because we simply could not go on then we would freeze because we had all gotten sick.
I sensed in those days how much your husband loved you and your children. It was this love which helped him endure the hardship. "For them" I would hear him say with every stab of the spade, at first tenderly, then louder and louder as he thought of you and your children. Do you understand what that meant for us? He inspired many of us and he strengthened us all.
Max Baldner passed away surprisingly and shortly after his 59th birthday. Since his exclusion from the "Reichskulturkammer" (Cultural Guild, Naziregime) in 1936 he suffered immensely under the oppressive situation. Because he had a Jewish wife Baldner was not allowed to perform during the Third Reich. He was sent to a labor camp. The tortures endured in the camps of Leuna and Halle wore him down. His death was a result of what he had to endure. Baldner was the cellist of the Zernick Quartett and Professor at the Music Academy of Berlin. He left his talents to his children but to us only remains the painful memory of one of the best of Berlins music world.
(Obituary, Die Neue Zeitung, Muenchen, October 4, 1946)
October 8, 1946 Laehrstrasse 9
Liebe Frau Baldner!
I discovered by coincidence the other day in the papers that Berliners have been left with the immense loss of your husband.
Your husband and I met during a time in life when it becomes rare to find a friend. It was during the days in Halle and Leuna. Right now during these dank and damp Fall days my memories of that time revisit me in their terrible palpability. Those days in which we and so many others were torn away from the midst of our families. I see us in my mind eye during roll call at five in the morning after sleepless nights. I see us as we were counted like cattle and were driven to work staggering in our wooden shoes through the dwindling night.
I don't know if your husband ever let you know the full extent of the gruesomeness of our situation. What I want to tell you is how much your husband thought of you and your children in those hard days, and also how much he inspired all of us.
For weeks we were coerced not only by words to give our last bit of physical strength. Together we dug up sand and carried it from one place to another as we were ordered. Over and over again, increasingly faster and for oppressively monotonous hours. If we stopped to catch our breath and wipe off our sweat because we simply could not go on then we would freeze because we had all gotten sick.
I sensed in those days how much your husband loved you and your children. It was this love which helped him endure the hardship. "For them" I would hear him say with every stab of the spade, at first tenderly, then louder and louder as he thought of you and your children. Do you understand what that meant for us? He inspired many of us and he strengthened us all.
Max Baldner passed away surprisingly and shortly after his 59th birthday. Since his exclusion from the "Reichskulturkammer" (Cultural Guild, Naziregime) in 1936 he suffered immensely under the oppressive situation. Because he had a Jewish wife Baldner was not allowed to perform during the Third Reich. He was sent to a labor camp. The tortures endured in the camps of Leuna and Halle wore him down. His death was a result of what he had to endure. Baldner was the cellist of the Zernick Quartett and Professor at the Music Academy of Berlin. He left his talents to his children but to us only remains the painful memory of one of the best of Berlins music world.
(Obituary, Die Neue Zeitung, Muenchen, October 4, 1946)
translations: page 3b, letter to Björn's grandmother, Björn's grandfathers Julius' last day
Lds. Schtz.Batl. 232 Sandbostel, February 1941
Near Bremervörde
Sehr geehrte gnädige Frau!
We, as members of the I./325 battalion, were severely shaken today when we read in the newspaper about the decease of your husband, and we want to send you our deepest condolences.
The name of your deceased husband will always be connected to the history of our I./325. Your husband as battalion commander devoted to our battalion his entire mature virility, his diligence and his rich military knowledge. There was not one man who did not honor, revere and love his "Julius," as well all called him. Whether it was in Praga, in Munsterlager or at the disbanding of the I.R. 325, he was always the first, the leader, and the one who was our model due to his iron diligence and untiring energy--a example of the old Prussian soldier.
Personally, I already knew your deceased husband as a young lieutenant in 1915/16 in the trenches at the river Wilja near Leschenjaty. I met him again in 1919 in Königsberg when he was fighting with mortars against the red [communist] sailor division at the Roßgärter Market. And when I joined again the regiment 325 in 1939, to my great pleasure your husband was with us as battalion and regiment commander.
Even if he wasn't granted the privilege to die a soldier's death in the battlefield, his passing away at home [Heimat] is equally as honorable. We were aware that Major Podehl has long been tormented by a malicious illness. Despite of it, he remained iron and upright, punctual and precise in his duties; he did not demand anything from his people that he did not demand of himself. It was touching to see how he participated during social gathering of comrades and that he was happy with those who were cheerful in order not to be a spoilsport.
He will always be . . . . as a man . . .
Julius was sent back home [Heimat] for surgery, directly to the sickbay of the reserves clinic. In the single room was a couch, so that I could stay there. It was February 11, 1941. During the day, the children were with him, at night I was. My husband had a severe cough and the cuts caused him great pain. On February 20, the nurse mentioned to me that I would no longer have to stay for the night. Around 5pm, a scream, a groan, it was the end. As wonderful as it might be to leave this world consciously after a completed life, in this case, his death came as an act of mercy.
Near Bremervörde
Sehr geehrte gnädige Frau!
We, as members of the I./325 battalion, were severely shaken today when we read in the newspaper about the decease of your husband, and we want to send you our deepest condolences.
The name of your deceased husband will always be connected to the history of our I./325. Your husband as battalion commander devoted to our battalion his entire mature virility, his diligence and his rich military knowledge. There was not one man who did not honor, revere and love his "Julius," as well all called him. Whether it was in Praga, in Munsterlager or at the disbanding of the I.R. 325, he was always the first, the leader, and the one who was our model due to his iron diligence and untiring energy--a example of the old Prussian soldier.
Personally, I already knew your deceased husband as a young lieutenant in 1915/16 in the trenches at the river Wilja near Leschenjaty. I met him again in 1919 in Königsberg when he was fighting with mortars against the red [communist] sailor division at the Roßgärter Market. And when I joined again the regiment 325 in 1939, to my great pleasure your husband was with us as battalion and regiment commander.
Even if he wasn't granted the privilege to die a soldier's death in the battlefield, his passing away at home [Heimat] is equally as honorable. We were aware that Major Podehl has long been tormented by a malicious illness. Despite of it, he remained iron and upright, punctual and precise in his duties; he did not demand anything from his people that he did not demand of himself. It was touching to see how he participated during social gathering of comrades and that he was happy with those who were cheerful in order not to be a spoilsport.
He will always be . . . . as a man . . .
Julius was sent back home [Heimat] for surgery, directly to the sickbay of the reserves clinic. In the single room was a couch, so that I could stay there. It was February 11, 1941. During the day, the children were with him, at night I was. My husband had a severe cough and the cuts caused him great pain. On February 20, the nurse mentioned to me that I would no longer have to stay for the night. Around 5pm, a scream, a groan, it was the end. As wonderful as it might be to leave this world consciously after a completed life, in this case, his death came as an act of mercy.