However, the images from Ukraine bring up memories in me that were buried and that I hadn't thought about in a long time. I see reports from old people's homes about agitated and suffering inhabitants haunted by their Second World War experiences. Luckily, Red Baron's war memories as a boy are relatively mild.
It is disturbing that more than half of the Russian population supports the warlord Putin and approves his so-called "military action" against Ukraine. And yet, I hear the Russian people cannot be blamed because people experience nothing else in the media besides positive Russian war propaganda. As a child, I went through this permanent brainwashing, too.
Indeed, the situation in Russia is similar to the one in the Third Reich, in which the press and radio were all brought in line, although nowadays, live television and social media are the most important sources of "mis"information,
As a child, I knew nothing but Nazi propaganda. There were only a few children's books like the Grimm brothers' fairy tales and the sagas of Nordic gods and Aryian heroes.
The Grimm fairy tales are not particularly anti-Semitic. In Der Jude im Dorn (The Jew in the Thorns), you learn about a suffering Jew. Nevertheless, the illustration in my book Märchen der Gebrüder Grimm shows the typical attributes: the Jewish hat and the yellow circular marking all Jews had to wear in the Middle Ages. Note the Gothic printing in the Alte Schwabacher typeface.
The few books I had I finished soon, so I had to switch to those inexpensive Kriegshefte (war booklets), which I devoured as a boy and where I learned my first English vocabulary. One title was Hands Up! It dealt with a Nazi commando operation in faraway Canada.
Before all that, however, my school enrollment took place in Essen.
The photo was taken in the fall of 1941 because the central government had moved the start of the school year from Easter to the fall, as was generally the case in other European countries.
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The Sütterlin letters are in the first row, their Latin
equivalents are in the second, while the third row displays the Gothic font Alte Schwabacher |
But on January 3, 1941, Hitler's chief of staff, Martin Bormann, sent the following circular written in terrible German to the Reichsleiter, the Gauleiter (heads of the districts), and Verbandsleiter (formation leaders):
Circular
(Not for publication).
For general attention, I am communicating on behalf of the
Führer:
To regard or designate the so-called Gothic script as
a German script is wrong. In reality, the so-called Gothic script
consists of Schwabach Judenlettern (Jewish letters). Just as they
later took possession of the newspapers, the Jews residing in
Germany took possession of the printing presses when the printing
press was introduced, and this led to the strong introduction of
the Schwabach Judenlettern in Germany.
Today, in a meeting with Reichsleiter Amann and Adolf
Müller, owner of a book printing shop, the Führer decided that the
Antiqua typeface should henceforth be designated as the standard
typeface. Gradually, all printed matter is to be converted to this
regular typeface. As soon as this is possible regarding
schoolbooks, only the standard script will be used in the village
and elementary schools.
The use of the Schwabach Judenlettern by authorities
will cease in the future; appointment certificates for officials,
street signs, and the like will, in the future, be produced only
in standard script.
By order of the Führer, Herr Reichsleiter Amann will
first convert to standard typeface those newspapers that already
have a foreign circulation or whose foreign circulation is
desired.
Signed M. Bormann.
This decree introduced "Latin" cursive handwriting in schools,
but new schoolbooks had to be printed before the unfamiliar letters
could be taught. So from January 1942 on, we first graders had to
relearn how to write and read the "normal" script.
In the early Forties, my war experience in the Ruhr area was
"limited" to houses set on fire by bombs, which I looked at when I
stepped out of the air-raid shelter into the fresh air at night as
an eight-year-old.
The following day - all fires had been extinguished - the block
warden in his brown uniform walked from house to house with a
non-detonated but defused stick firebomb and warned the population
about unexploded ones that could start a new fire at any time. When
a house resident across the street showed him the melted remains of
an incendiary bomb, he waved it off wearily.
Because of the continuing bombings, in the fall of 1942, my family moved to the Sudetenland, to the small town of Hirschberg am See. Thoroughly indoctrinated, I went to school there happily singing the song of the trembling rotten bones on my way home, "marching" down the village street: "For today Germany belongs to us and tomorrow the whole world."
And then, one day, an air battle raged above as we played outside. When plane parts and body limbs started raining, we took shelter in a nearby copse.
In the days before Easter 1945, as a nine-year-old, I survived a low-flying strafer. On Easter, the Americans simply overran us.
Finally, in the fall of 1945, I attended the Scientific High School for Boys and Girls in Hamburg Poppenbüttel. But that is another story.
Because of the continuing bombings, in the fall of 1942, my family moved to the Sudetenland, to the small town of Hirschberg am See. Thoroughly indoctrinated, I went to school there happily singing the song of the trembling rotten bones on my way home, "marching" down the village street: "For today Germany belongs to us and tomorrow the whole world."
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Es zittern die morschen Knochen. Es zittern die morschen Knochen Der Welt vor dem roten Krieg Wir haben den Schrecken gebrochen Für uns war´s ein großer Sieg Wir werden weiter marschieren Wenn alles in Scherben fällt und heute hört uns Deutschland Und morgen die ganze Welt Und mögen die Spießer auch schelten so lasst sie nur toben und schrein und stemmen sich gegen uns Welten wir werden doch Sieger sein Und liegt vom Kampfe in Trümmern die ganze Welt zu Hauf das soll uns den Teufel kümmern wir bauen sie wieder auf. |
The rotten bones are trembling. Trembling are the rotten bones. Of the world before the Red War. We smashed the terror, For us, it was a great victory. We will march on Even when everything falls in shards, For today, Germany is listening to us And tomorrow, the whole world. And if the old people should scold, Just let them scream and shout. And even if the world stands against us, We shall still be victors. And if battle leaves only ruins. Everywhere in heaps, We won't give a tinker's cuss, We'll just build them up again. |
Note the original text reads, For today Germany is listening
(hört) to us and not Germany belongs (gehört) to us,
a significant difference.
As a nine-year-old, I watched the shiny, silvery American bomber
formations in the sky, high over my
new home in Westphalia, Hövelhof. They were heading east. To disturb the German air defense, they
kept raining aluminum strips at inappropriate times of the year.
We collected the tinsel to save for Christmas decorations.
The "ruins" verse is just cynical when you compare the bombed
German cities after World War II with the current pictures from
Mariupol.
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Ruins in Freiburg on Adolf-Hitler-Straße caused by the air raid on November 27, 1944. . This north-south axis is now named Kaiser-Joseph-Straße (seen on Facebook). |
And then, one day, an air battle raged above as we played outside. When plane parts and body limbs started raining, we took shelter in a nearby copse.
In the days before Easter 1945, as a nine-year-old, I survived a low-flying strafer. On Easter, the Americans simply overran us.
Finally, in the fall of 1945, I attended the Scientific High School for Boys and Girls in Hamburg Poppenbüttel. But that is another story.
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interesting!
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