Post by TW on Apr 21, 2015 13:46:36 GMT -5
I was asked that question by a friend, while we were discussing things related to WWII. He'd stated that all Germans were Nazis, and therefore they all should have died. I told him I disagreed. Some were Nazis, but others had no option but do what they were told, because if they didn't, they'd end up killed, along with their families.
I cited the first story, about my Great-Aunt's uncle. He was a shop owner in Berlin. He had a healthy business, and he spoke perfect English. He'd been raised half and half, in Germany and Chicago. He'd gone back to Germany to live, despite being an American citizen, in 1935. He put an American flag up in front of his store when the 1936 Olympics were going on. He was told, after the Olympics that it had to come down. According to the Nazis, it showed disrespect for their cause. He laughed at them, but did take it down. He told them they had no pride with the things they were doing to people.
Things went okay for him, though there were groups of Hitler Youths who would paint slogans on his store indicating he wasn't a "good German."
On Deceember oth, 1941, when he heard the US declared war on Germany, he took his American flag and hoisted it in front of his business. Nazis came to his store and ordered him to take it down. When he refused, he was shot to death, there in the street, ahd his flag pulled down, set on fire, and thrown on his body, which was left there for others to see.
Of course, for those members of our family who found out what happened, there was outrage. As a child, growing up, I carried that outrage with me. Even my Grandparents on my Mother's side, who were German, were outraged by the Nazis.
Nothing changed for me until 1982, when I was hired by a company moving from Chicago to Texas, and I would be the #2 man in their engineering department. For several months, I worked in Chicago, and had only met the Mgr. once. He had an accent, but that's all I knew about him.
When it came time for me to move to Texas, this man went out and found us a fantastic home to rent, at an affordable price. He became a friend, as well as my boss.
After several months of working together, I asked him where he was from? He told me he was German. It was a couple of months later, while we were having a drink together that I got more out of him. This is what he told me.
I was a German soldier during WWII. I was amongst the nearly 500, that was to attack Stalingrad. I had been drafted into the service. I was 18 years old, and in college. I was assigned to an infantry division. We were shipped off to Russia without any winter clothing, and very little training, or equipment. They told us in the quick training that it was our job to attract bullets if necessary, so that those who had weapons could kill the enemy, after they ran out of ammunition. Then they laughed. Just kidding they said. We would have plenty of weapons. We could just take them off the dead, and fight on. We couldn't believe what we'd heard. When we got there, it was true. By the time we arrived, there was less than 150,000 of us. That number went down significantly every day, more dying from the cold than enemy bullets.
Eventually, there was less than 100,000 of us left. The rest were dead. When our ammunition was totally exhausted, the Generals in command surrendered our forces to the Russians. Hitler wanted us to fight to the death, but the Generals thought that was a useless loss of life. From what I was told, there was about 90,000 of us taken prisoner. After our capture, we were treated as slaves, and beaten regularly. We had little or no food. They marched us for miles in clothing unfit for the winter. In the end, they put us in concentration camps where matters were even worse. Men were dying every day. In the end, they say that less than 5,000 of us, from the original 500,000, lived to see repatriation to Germany, and that wasn't until 1955.
I psaid my price for what my country did. I couldn't stand living in Germany when I got home. I hated the people because they'd allowed the Nazis to take over, and do what they did. I had to leave. I applied for immigration to the US, and it was granted. I'm an American now. It's who I'll be, until I die.
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After hearing his story, my opinion of Germans changed. Nothing changed in regards to the Nazis, just that not all Germans were Nazis, and not all Germans were bad.
A few years ago my old friend died. He died an American. It reminds me of a question I asked him, when I first heard his accent; "What nationality are you?" He answered; "American!" There was emphasis in what he said. I respected this man, and to think, at one time, I hated him without ever having met him, or knowing anything about him. I grew up a lot over a short period of time, and I was 40 years old.
That brings me back to the question I was asked, recently. "Whose side are you on?" It's difficult answering that question. It's not so easy to paint everyone with the same brush.
I cited the first story, about my Great-Aunt's uncle. He was a shop owner in Berlin. He had a healthy business, and he spoke perfect English. He'd been raised half and half, in Germany and Chicago. He'd gone back to Germany to live, despite being an American citizen, in 1935. He put an American flag up in front of his store when the 1936 Olympics were going on. He was told, after the Olympics that it had to come down. According to the Nazis, it showed disrespect for their cause. He laughed at them, but did take it down. He told them they had no pride with the things they were doing to people.
Things went okay for him, though there were groups of Hitler Youths who would paint slogans on his store indicating he wasn't a "good German."
On Deceember oth, 1941, when he heard the US declared war on Germany, he took his American flag and hoisted it in front of his business. Nazis came to his store and ordered him to take it down. When he refused, he was shot to death, there in the street, ahd his flag pulled down, set on fire, and thrown on his body, which was left there for others to see.
Of course, for those members of our family who found out what happened, there was outrage. As a child, growing up, I carried that outrage with me. Even my Grandparents on my Mother's side, who were German, were outraged by the Nazis.
Nothing changed for me until 1982, when I was hired by a company moving from Chicago to Texas, and I would be the #2 man in their engineering department. For several months, I worked in Chicago, and had only met the Mgr. once. He had an accent, but that's all I knew about him.
When it came time for me to move to Texas, this man went out and found us a fantastic home to rent, at an affordable price. He became a friend, as well as my boss.
After several months of working together, I asked him where he was from? He told me he was German. It was a couple of months later, while we were having a drink together that I got more out of him. This is what he told me.
I was a German soldier during WWII. I was amongst the nearly 500, that was to attack Stalingrad. I had been drafted into the service. I was 18 years old, and in college. I was assigned to an infantry division. We were shipped off to Russia without any winter clothing, and very little training, or equipment. They told us in the quick training that it was our job to attract bullets if necessary, so that those who had weapons could kill the enemy, after they ran out of ammunition. Then they laughed. Just kidding they said. We would have plenty of weapons. We could just take them off the dead, and fight on. We couldn't believe what we'd heard. When we got there, it was true. By the time we arrived, there was less than 150,000 of us. That number went down significantly every day, more dying from the cold than enemy bullets.
Eventually, there was less than 100,000 of us left. The rest were dead. When our ammunition was totally exhausted, the Generals in command surrendered our forces to the Russians. Hitler wanted us to fight to the death, but the Generals thought that was a useless loss of life. From what I was told, there was about 90,000 of us taken prisoner. After our capture, we were treated as slaves, and beaten regularly. We had little or no food. They marched us for miles in clothing unfit for the winter. In the end, they put us in concentration camps where matters were even worse. Men were dying every day. In the end, they say that less than 5,000 of us, from the original 500,000, lived to see repatriation to Germany, and that wasn't until 1955.
I psaid my price for what my country did. I couldn't stand living in Germany when I got home. I hated the people because they'd allowed the Nazis to take over, and do what they did. I had to leave. I applied for immigration to the US, and it was granted. I'm an American now. It's who I'll be, until I die.
---------------------------------------------------------------------
After hearing his story, my opinion of Germans changed. Nothing changed in regards to the Nazis, just that not all Germans were Nazis, and not all Germans were bad.
A few years ago my old friend died. He died an American. It reminds me of a question I asked him, when I first heard his accent; "What nationality are you?" He answered; "American!" There was emphasis in what he said. I respected this man, and to think, at one time, I hated him without ever having met him, or knowing anything about him. I grew up a lot over a short period of time, and I was 40 years old.
That brings me back to the question I was asked, recently. "Whose side are you on?" It's difficult answering that question. It's not so easy to paint everyone with the same brush.
