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Back in the 80's I used to take the wife to a little summer haus out in the forest near Ringingen (South of Stuttgart).
The owner had been a Col. in the Wermacht on the Eastern Front (and made it back alive), and he had built the place after the war. Not a big place, like a B&B, but it provided some income for him.

He'd also agreed to provide a safehouse for my team back during the Cold War (if it had ever gone hot), and we had used his place during the Flintlock exercises, so we all knew each other.

At night, after closing, we'd all sit around in the main room and drink schnapps and trade stories.
He still had his old collection of records of songs from back then, and at some point during the evening, he'd go put on a record and we'd all sit around the table and sing the old songs.

It was fun to take the wife there and sit around with my old friend and a few young Germans and watch their eyes light up while we drank and told stories and sang the old songs. They got to hear the things that had been forbidden to talk about in school from a man who'd been there. I spoke good Deutsch and Française, and some Polski and Russkiy, and we would ad-lib little comic skits with him as a German officer and me playing the parts of various French, Polish or Russians, just making it up as we went along, like, "Who's Line Is It?" with the wife and the kids sometimes joining in and playing other parts. It was a fucking ball, the wife and the kids loved it. Good times.

He was a good man and I still think about him sometimes.

Yes, but I would not make the same claim about him with WW2, the reckless gambles he made with German lives is unforgiveable in my eyes.