A solemn crowd of Germans and Americans — some soldiers, some civilians — gathered one sunny morning last month in the public cemetery in Kaiserslautern, in western Germany, where a grassy field holds the remains of 451 American infants.
Civic groups, service members and schoolchildren maintain the so-called Kindergraves, cutting grass and repairing headstones for the babies, born between 1952 and 1971 to military families stationed at the many bases nearby. Every May, they hold a ceremony in remembrance — just one expression of the multilayered German-American friendship that has undergirded the region for decades.
“We give thanks for the city of Kaiserslautern,” intoned Capt. Nathan Smith, an Air Force chaplain. “We are grateful that in a world wrought with pain, discord, war and grief, that we can stand together for the purpose of peace and love.”
That friendship is now being tested by President Trump, who has levied heavy tariffs against Europe and mused about withdrawing troops, or even leaving NATO. Meanwhile, recent polls in Germany show a significant drop in trust in the United States.
Even though Germany’s chancellor, Friedrich Merz, tried to tamp down the tension in a White House meeting with Mr. Trump on June 5, Mr. Merz has also urged European “independence” from the United States. The two are expected to meet at the Group of 7 summit in Canada, starting Sunday.
Separation would be unthinkable in Kaiserslautern, in Rhineland-Palatinate state, where tens of thousands of Americans have lived since the 1940s, shopping at German stores, attending German schools and marrying German spouses. Here, the relationship is personal and, at least for now, hopeful.
“It’s a completely different world than what the politicians are doing and saying,” said Jochen Balzulat, president of the German-American Club Kaiserslautern, which helps maintain the Kindergraves.
When the Americans arrived after World War II, Kaiserslautern, southwest of Frankfurt, was a bombed-out hulk. The bases that sprouted around it brought thousands of military families, who shaped the region’s towns in their image. Today, with 56,000 service members and civilians living among about 200,000 German residents, it is America’s largest overseas military district.
“Rhineland-Palatinate is the most trans-Atlantic state, and Kaiserslautern is the most trans-Atlantic city” in Germany, said Beate Kimmel, the mayor of Kaiserslautern.
If you want a cheeseburger, stop at Kullman’s Diner, seemingly replanted from the New Jersey suburbs. If you need a scented Yankee Candle, there’s a room full of them at Woody’s, a candy shop in downtown Kaiserslautern.
Many Germans earn money renting homes to Americans; the truly enterprising build new houses on spec. They add all the comforts of an American suburban residence, like en suite bathrooms, said Simone Stranze, a real estate agent.
While most service members cycle through deployments in a few years, she said, some stay for decades, or return after retirement.
“The Americans will always be here,” she said. “I’m sure of it.”
She has to stay positive. The American military presence pumps about $2.5 billion into the local economy annually, based on estimates by the Atlantic Academy, a think tank in Kaiserslautern.
“We joke about it — if we left, all these businesses would fail,” said Jason Hamilton, the owner of Puzzles, a bar themed after a pub in the American sitcom “How I Met Your Mother,” in Kaiserslautern. “But I don’t believe that’s going to happen.”
It was a sentiment echoed across the area: Whatever threats might come from Washington, the bases near Kaiserslautern are too important to abandon.
Ramstein Air Base, just west of Kaiserslautern, is the logistics hub for U.S. operations across Europe, the Middle East and most of Africa.
Landstuhl Hospital, nearby, handled wounded soldiers from the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan — and is being replaced by another, larger facility, hardly evidence of an impending withdrawal.
“I’ll believe it when it happens,” said Bianca Pfannenstiel, who is married to an American and teaches at a school in Ramstein, adjacent to the base.
Mrs. Pfannensteil helps run a monthly Stammtisch, a dinner get-together, at a restaurant in Ramstein that serves both American-style Italian food — lots of pizza — and German fare like asparagus cream soup.
At one recent Stammtisch, about 20 Germans and Americans crowded around a U-shaped table. Many were longtime attendees; several were in mixed marriages.
“For us, presidents change, policies change, but friendship doesn’t change,” Mrs. Pfannenstiel said.
Not everyone is so bullish. Some worry that Mr. Trump’s insistence on a more transactional relationship with Europe will change the image of Americans as friendly allies to that of an occupying force.
“We’re scared at the moment,” said Julia Weber, a German who teaches with Mrs. Pfannensteil. “I think Germany was safe with the United States as a big friend, and now people feel that friendship cannot be relied on.”
That is one reason people tend to the Kindergraves year after year. This spring, they replaced 35 headstones. Before the ceremony, students placed a tiny American flag and a single pink rose on each grave.
“It is a symbol,” said Sarah Wagner, deputy director of the Atlantic Academy. “If no one cares about German-American relations, no one will care about the Kindergraves.”
Clay Risen is a Times reporter on the Obituaries desk.
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