Pictured: Chuikov’s letter to his wife Valentina from Berlin, 10 May 1945.
Translation:
Hello, my dear Valya! I’m kissing you, my love, over and over. Kissing little Nelya and Rina, too [daughters Ninel and Irina].
My dear! The long-awaited hour of victory has arrived. The entire country and the whole world are rejoicing, even the Germans, who have been freed from Hitler’s nightmare. And what do I feel now? I feel like an unemployed man, after working so many years on the most active fronts of this war. I can’t quite grasp or adjust to the peaceful surroundings.
It’s wild that you go to bed and no one wakes you up, they don’t shoot, they don’t bomb, the question involuntarily arises, what to do? How did this happen?
To enter Berlin as a victor, to come all the way from Stalingrad to Berlin—back in 1942, this would have been a fantasy. In 1943 and 1944, it was just a dream, but by 1945, it was the road we had traveled.
Undoubtedly, the feeling of joy was great, especially on May 1st at 3 a.m., when the Chief of the German General Staff arrived and began to speak about surrender. I felt, right before my eyes, that Nazi Germany was bowing to its knees. I was overjoyed, for everything and for everyone. The very next day, when the Berlin garrison had already surrendered and the commander of Berlin’s defense sat across from me with his staff, I involuntarily asked myself, “What’s next?”
And now, it’s time to truly adjust...
Marshal Chuikov’s letter captures the emotional complexity of a soldier's transition from the battlefield to a peacetime reality after years of war. Writing to his wife after the victory over Germany, Chuikov expresses his deep love and longing for his family while reflecting on the unexpected disorientation that peace brings. His words reveal the profound shift in his world—he describes feeling like an “unemployed man” now that his purpose, shaped by years on the “most active fronts,” has suddenly vanished.
Vasily Ivanovich conveys a sense of awe at the scale of their achievement, tracing the improbable journey from the bleak days of 1942 in Stalingrad to the ultimate victory in Berlin. The path from despair to triumph is marked by a blend of disbelief and pride, underscored by his description of the German General Staff surrendering before him. Yet, alongside his pride, Chuikov’s lingering question—“What’s next?”—echoes a sense of uncertainty. The war's end left a void where purpose and routine once dominated, and adjusting to a world without the constant threat of violence feels surreal to him.
This letter offers a poignant glimpse into the inner life of a soldier at a historic moment. It reminds us that victory is not purely celebratory; it is accompanied by a complex blend of relief, pride, and an unsettling need to redefine oneself. For Chuikov, victory meant not only liberation for millions but also the beginning of a personal journey to find meaning in a life no longer defined by war.
***Special thanks to Igor Musienko for his translation.***