Dear grandchildren,
There was a coup attempt yesterday in which Trump supporters, with his express permission and encouragement, stormed the Capital Building, breaking windows, brandishing weapons, ransacking congressional members’ property, and pounding down doors – including the one to the chambers where members of Congress, including the Vice President and almost all lawmakers from both the House and the Senate were doing their constitutional duty of certifying the results of the 2020 presidential election.
Four people died in that attempt yesterday. Democracy could have died, too. But it didn’t.
The moment it was safe enough (separate topic for another time/place: where was law enforcement – and why did the woefully under-staffed police force seem to usher in these thugs?!), members of Congress were ushered, under very heavy security, back into the chambers to finish their work, which they did by 3:00 AM.
This is a very dangerous time in America. The next 13 days, between now and when Biden and Harris are sworn in, will be especially treacherous. Trump is completely unfit to be president. He always has been, but according to people close to him, he has now completely “lost his mind.” And he has the nuclear codes.
I didn’t know all this would happen when I began this blog a few weeks ago. I wondered whether there should even be a “Hitler and Trump” tag. But here we are.
Back to the purpose of this blog. I am currently posting portions my father’s book, The Rim of the Volcano, in blog-post-sized chunks, from the beginning of his book to the end. Before each chapter in which dad describes his personal memories, he provided detailed information about the political environment of the time. Yesterday’s post was about the political environment in Nazi Germany from 1939 to 1941 – and, it turns out, about the horrifying political environment in America in early January, 2021.
Today’s post is about Dad’s life when he was eleven and twelve years old, just as WWII was beginning (although the handwriting had already been on the wall for a good six years). I don’t know how old you’ll be, sweet grandchildren, when you read this. Maybe around eleven or twelve. Put yourself in Thomas’ position as you read this. I know that I’m feeling some of what his world might have been like as I post this entry, my TV tuned to CNN as I write.
Here are Thomas’ memories of that time:
High school - Gymnasium
The school system in Germany was – and still is – quite different than in the US. Around the fourth grade a decision is made that significantly impacts a child’s future. At this time a decision is made (by parents, teachers, and student) for each child to attend either high school, to eventually attend a university, or stay in elementary school until the age of 14 (eighth grade) to become an apprentice for learning a trade.
(This is a current-day chart, but it gives a good idea of the German School System that still exists.)
My parents had to decide what high school I should go to. There were two schools near us, both strictly for boys (the girls had their own). One of the boys' high schools, the Realschule, was just up the hill. The other one, the Humanistische Staatsgymnasium[1], was a couple of blocks further. There I would join Rainer, but five grades below. Most importantly, it was "the only acceptable” high school. Both schools had much the same curriculum, except for foreign languages and philosophy. The Gymnasium stressed a humanistic education: eight years of Latin, six years of Greek, four years of English. The Realschule was much more in the "real world": eight years of English or French and five years of Latin. Of course, both had German every day, plus math, physics, history and PE and, once or twice a week, biology, geography, religion, art, and music. No other electives were available. Our class always stayed together, from Sexta (fifth grade) through Prima (12th grade). We stayed together in the same classrooms for a whole year. Our class had such a tight bond that there are still annual class reunions now, some 60 years later! But our ranks are shrinking...
There was no competition between the schools, except for the caps we proudly wore. We had a blue cap; they had a brown one. There were no intramural sports, no competitions of any kind; we just tolerated each other, with a sense of superiority, of course. The official competition within any specific high school class was academic: the one with the best grade-point average in the class was "Primus,” and the other 29 were also-rans. The real competition centered on who can play the best tricks on the teachers. Who can shoot the most goals in soccer? Who was the fastest 100-meter runner?
Gunter, my best friend (we're still in contact today!) was Primus most years, but our real hero was Kay. He was the hardest on the teachers. While "Lackel” -- all teachers had nicknames -- wrote some Latin on the blackboard, a paper missile struck his back. Lackel didn't even bother to turn around, but only said: "Kay Schmidt, 40 Formeln". That meant that Kay had to write 40 Latin verb forms such as "lavabit - he will bathe" and "capiunt - they would have taken.” Kay became quite good in Latin conjugations. He also became a lawyer.
Yes, we did have PE, but our soccer teams were chosen from within the class, different every time: one team wore a blue ribbon, the other didn't. Fritjof and I were usually chosen as goalies. We didn't run fast, but, standing still, we were wide enough to fill much of the goal. We did a lot of jumping and vaulting, none of which I was particularly good at, but thanks to the gym set we had in our yard at home, I was the fastest in climbing the two parallel vertical bars, and I discovered that a little spit on the outside of the calf muscle makes the best friction.
To me, one weekly afternoon was most important. On Wednesdays there was no homework because that was the day the Hitler Youth met. Everyone was a member, uniform and all -- except me. The Hitler Youth -- always referred to as the HJ (in German “Ha Jot”) -- was mandatory for all boys. But I, as a half-Jew” was only qualified to be "in reserve,” not eligible to be active an active member. So my Wednesday afternoons were free of homework, which was fine with me, but I must admit that I was often envious on Thursday mornings when my classmates boasted about how much fun they’d had, standing at attention and "all that stuff.”
The Ha-Jot played a big part in everyone’s life. One written order to appear at the Ha-Jot office is still clear in my mind because it was so full of threats of punishment for non-compliance. When I got to the office, the kid behind the counter was younger than I, but he wore the uniform of a higher-ranked HJ member. I gave him my order.
“What’s the matter? Why aren’t you wearing uniform?” he yelled at me.
“Because I am not in the Ha-Jot.”
“What do you mean? Everybody is!”“I am not active, I’m bereitgestellt[1].”
“Bist de ‘n’ Jude?” (That was the worst he could say. The word Jude by that time had gotten the ring of a swearword.)
“Nein, ich bin ein Mischling.”
“We don’t want you here -- get out!”
I did. Fast.
[1] “in reserve”
[1] “The Humanist State High School”: A “Gymnasium” is a High School; same name as a “gym” in the US, but stands for the entire school. “Humanist” because the emphasis is on a humanist or classical , rather than religious, world view. More than half of the graduates go on to a medical, legal, or theological career. The school was run by the state; nominal tuition payments went to the federal government.
How did he feel about being "unqualified" for Hitler Youth? Was he relieved? Or disappointed? He is so good at retelling the facts---I'd love to know what he was feeling and thinking at that age.
ReplyDeleteI really like how you tie in what's happening now with what was happening back then.