'Travellers in the Third Reich' by Julia Boyd.

 

World of Books

 

This is an interesting book.  I must say I read this on 'Kindle,' as it was cheaper that way!  Actual books however, are easier to read as maps and notes can be turned to much easier.  

Kindle however, is ideal for lying on your side in bed while reading.

During the 1930's a wide variety of people passed through Germany.  The country had been a popular holiday resort from long before the Great War, you will remember Jerome K Jerome's second book 'Three Men on the Bummel,' was based on a cycling holiday in Germany.  Even after the conflict many continued to visit a nation they enjoyed.  Some were ex-servicemen seeking reconciliation, some religious feeding hungry children during the 1920's, and there were plenty of them at that time, and others seeking peace during the 30's.  

Once Hitler took control many continued to visit, either because they admired the obvious improvements such as the building of houses for workers, improved work to eradicate unemployment, and the purpose and stability which grew during the 1930's throughout the country.  Those who admired such things tended to downplay or ignore the other side of National Socialism.  Jews, some claimed, got what they deserved, others took a different view and risked all to save Jews and their children, an act which cost them money and could have cost them their lives.

From our perspective it was obvious what was happening, however, for those on the ground, including worldly wise and intelligent people, recognising what was happening around them was not easy.  The devil disguises himself in light and confusion when he operates!  Clearly many did not realise, until 1938, the depth of darkness around them.   

W.E.B. Du Bois, a black American in his 60's loved the country and found himself welcomed across Germany.  An intelligent and wise man yet he found it difficult to understand what was actually happening around him.  Such was the difficulty under the Nazis.  

English women married to Germans had a great deal of freedom, once they proved their Aryan background, and it is surprising how many were found, often working together, in Germany during the war.  A great many foreigners were in the country, usually from Scandanavian or European nations and with a great deal of belief in National Socialism.  Many died in action.  Women suffered the loss of their husbands in action, one decapitated when he was found to be sheltering a refugee (Jew?).  While the men were away they had to rear children, the German woman's job under Nazi rule, and eventually work in factories and fields.    

The impression left is a nation totally under the control of one man.  The belief in him was strong, even after 1943 when it became clear the war was lost.  During Hitler's rise the nation put their trust in him, and those who didn't kept their mouths shut.  Obedience was all, and all obeyed.  This was the situation in the UK also under the war cabinet, however, in the UK complaints were loud and clear, obedience was for the good of the many and all knew it, while a huge number did not obey and rebelled when the stress was too much.  A very different kind of repression to that in Germany.  Belief in Hitler was strong, not always forced, and this allowed him to pacify the nation while building arms and planning to finish the Great War.  

This book aids an understanding of how such control can happen without anyone noticing, and gaining support from the many, in spite of awful things occurring.   I found it entrancing, with the one problem that the author jumps from one person to another making it difficult to keep up with who is who!  Maybe that is just me?

I recommend this book.    

 

Travel Thoughts

Funny how our thoughts change with time.
I was reading a blog in which a young man tells of the difference between spending time travelling and then returning to the real world.  I think reading it we can all find something to identify with in his tale.
He talks of hitchhiking around, the people he met and places he visited.  He discusses the differences in attitudes between those friendly folks he met while walking and the daily grind where smiles do not exist.  We have all been there.
I can recall similar attitudes.  The difference between the behaviour of the people on the Edinburgh to Kings Cross train and the attitudes found in the deep, dank London Underground come to mind.  People travelling long distance often, but not always, show a more relaxed approach to those around them while the man in the 'tube' cares little and fears much from his companions.  I understand that!  People who pick you up when hitchhiking along the A1 I found were often friendly and helpful, not counting the old fella late at night south of Newcastle who offered me a fiver for a little job!   
The fact is when in your youth travelling around, especially slowly, lets you see the country in a way never seen by staying in a boring job or never leaving one place of residence.  Changes in landscape, how others live, local foodstuffs, dialect and language differences all leave a mark and returning home life seems in many ways safe but boring.  
My adventure in 1974 in which I bought a bike, not having ridden one for years, piled stuff into the saddlebags and two or three weeks later cycled off to London gave me similar thoughts.  It also gave me the thought that I ought to have bought the stolen bike six months before not three weeks! However I saw a world I would have missed, met people I would not have known and been considered mad by folks who did not know me as well as those around today who consider me mad from experience.
Those rich kids who can travel to exotic places, Europe, the Americas, Australasia or Greenock benefit even more by finding sunshine, exotic foodstuffs, large spiders and Berri-Berri, all this makes the mince and tatties of their childhood pales into significance, especially the Berri-Berri, however in some cases it may become all to familiar!
However in the end reality sets in.  Home, wherever it is made, means work to earn the cash to pay for the lifestyle.  No matter what you do, no matter how talented, no matter how freelance you may be there are always deadlines to meet and people to obey.  Freedom from work does not exist until you retire and for many a cheap life is all they have then.  Mind you when in the 90's a cheap life is what most need!  I will soon know. 
The joy of heading down the road into the sunshine is great when young.  I recall returning to Edinburgh and watching a drama in which a young man heads off by rail into the future.  As he stood discussing this with his near tearful girl the rail line stretched out behind him and as a 20 year old I so wanted to follow that railway - anywhere!  Today I know that at the other end life is just the same as here, such a disappointment!  
We are lucky that in some cases our life improves when we follow the railway.  Jesus took me back to London and life with him is better than any other.  Others make a good life even if the rainbow does not land outside the door, some of course fall through the net and vanish.  In the end the desire to see the world and the newness of life fade somewhat.  Life can be good but age and experience alas arrives.  The good things alongside this can make up for this, family, friends, wealth, hobbies, lifestyle and the like but the youthful outlook will perish. 
Such a shame innit.  

The Sunny Chancellor

The UK budget occurred yesterday, I missed it.  Usually I sit through most of the hour or two while the man responsible for the British economy mumbles on, sipping whisky and water and supported occasionally by gruff cries of "hear hear," from his side of the House.  This year I just couldn't be bothered.  Whatever they say it is clear you will suffer.  This year it appear Gorgeous George has made a complete hash of things, lowering taxes for the rich and raising taxes for pensioners, good vote catching stuff Georgie!  When asked if he would benefit from lowering the top tax rate he claimed he did not earn enough!  Just his MPs salary. Hmmm I believe him, but he is lying in his teeth!  (Sue me George!)


This morning I jumped on the bike to avoid his smarmy lies on the radio and made my way, slowly, to Felsted station.  Actually this has been a private house for many years but the 6 miles and 12 chains distance was more than I have managed this year! That's 12 miles and 24 chains plus a bit more today.  I'm getting so fit I may soon be almost human. (A chain is 66 feet by the way.  Railways, estate agents and others still require to use this measurement today. 10 chains make a furlong (used in horse racing) and 8 furlongs make a mile, but you knew this.)  I almost went a bit further however the bridge at Felsted has been removed and this means a roundabout meander to continue.  Behind the old station house lies a Gypsy camp and I wandered into this by mistake.  The dogs were quickly awake at a strangers approach, one keen to eat my leg was a bother, and a chap standing by a huge bonfire, there is always a bonfire in such paces, pointed out the way to go.  As I made my way back, once again assaulted by the dogs, I was impressed by the amount of broken glass lying around.  One or two skips overflowed into the road, but the glimpses inside the caravans, mobile and static, through open doors showed a high standard from the women of the house.  No surprise there.  I would have continued on but at the beginning of the trail lay another pack of dogs so I decided to return home.  Just as well as I was knackered by this time.  Two slices of brown bread and cheese is not sufficient sustenance!


It impressed me that the dogs I encountered were all small 'yaps.' No big dogs to be seen.  Very good watchdogs, loud and aggressive, but the bites considered less dangerous and newsworthy than the bite from an Alsatian or Doberman.the fact is such dogs are much more likely to bite, just ask any postman!  Appearances deceive and these folks are no fools.  It is about ten years since I was last there, and the camp appeared very much tidier the last time, maybe it's just me?  Some folks complain about gypsies, the mess they leave when they camp unwanted, and I have endured that outside my door before now, the criminal element, and the all round trouble they cause.  Much of this is true of course, and gypsies, or 'travellers' as the media has decided we must call them now, do not do themselves any favours all too often. On the other hand I have seen similar conditions in this town, from the noble locals, and big cities have areas so 'deprived' no traveller would dare park a caravan there overnight.  There was a report that some in that camp were Christians and did a lot of good in the area, and a radio programme recently revealed a christian group composed of gypsies, and proud of it too, running an proper evangelical group on the outskirts of Edinburgh.


I wonder if it is within us all to make barriers between us?  What comes first, crime or rejection, being different or being bad?  The chap who gave me directions was friendly enough, although all the other eyes contained suspicion and glares.  Mind you I find that walking the streets everywhere I go, maybe it's just me.....


Anyway, do you like my style?  geddit?  Style, see....oh forget it.

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