Children officially became members of the Hitler Youth at age ten, but long before their tenth birthday, children had to stay after school and learn all about Hitler, the Versailles Treaty, the world’s mistreatment of Germany, the Germans’ role as the “Master Race” and how war would provide enough Lebensraum for our 80 million Aryans. School, which had once ended at four o’clock, now ended at five and sometimes six o’clock. Afterwards, there was still homework to be done, and it all cut into the time I could spend with Mom and Dad, friends, or practicing the piano.
One night, we had a visit from Mr. Guggenheimer and his family. Mr. Guggenheimer was older than my Dad; he had been a soldier in World War I and had received many decorations for bravery. When visiting their home, Walter and I were allowed to play with the decorations and we would wear them, pretending we had received them for being brave soldiers.
That evening, when it was already dark, the Guggenheimers came to see us, but this visit would not be like the fun visits we had had in the past. They explained that this would be the last time we would see each other. Mr. Guggenheimer said, “Erich, you and Wally and Edith have been our closest friends. No, you have been part of our family! We love you even more because our being Jewish has never stopped you from loving us. But we now have to end our friendship because you will be punished for associating with Jews, and we cannot allow that to happen. We will always remember all the good times we have spent together, but as of tonight our association will end.” My Dad argued against that decision, but the Guggenheimers would not change their minds. We all stood in an embrace and we all cried.
When I was about nine and a half years old, I was once again called into the school principal’s office. He verified the date of my birth and then gave me a list of clothing I would need before my tenth birthday. All the garments listed made up the basics needed for a Hitler Youth uniform. Once more my dad and I went to see the principal, who explained to my dad that I had to have the uniform for my tenth birthday because it was the day I would be inducted into the Hitler Youth, and it was also the day I would have an identification picture taken in uniform. Dad thanked the principal for his explanation of the list that he had given to me, and we politely bid him good-bye as he dismissed us with the raised arm Heil Hitler salute. I asked Dad when we would buy my uniform but he said, “Let’s wait. You will probably grow between now and your birthday.”
Dad and I always tried to make time for playing music and talking. We played different kinds of music, including classical and jazz, which we played very quietly. Dad had hidden a couple of recordings made by famous American jazz musicians; they were our favorite records. Of course we were not allowed to listen to jazz and we certainly were not allowed to play it either. We practically put our ears into the record player to keep the sound low but yet hear every note.
One time, when Dad came home from work, he told me that he had seen American jazz musicians in a train traveling from Amsterdam through northern Germany on their way to Denmark and Sweden. His train was stopped at the same station as the musicians’ train. Armed SS-troopers were guarding every exit door of the other train to make sure that none of the “Jazz Niggers,” which was Hitler’s description of them, could put a foot on German ground. Hitler had always said, “They are the offspring of the ancient Hottentot race in South Africa, and no Aryan is allowed to associate with them in any way.”
While Dad was telling me what he had seen and heard he said to me, “Dear, as soon as there is a way of emigrating from Germany we will try to immigrate to America. Wouldn’t you like that? Just think! We would be able to listen to and to play jazz anytime we wanted and we would be free. No more Hitler and no government making us do what we know is wrong.”
Hitler’s orders for starting the war that he had been planning were carried out early in the morning of September 1, 1939. Soldiers, tanks and artillery crossed the borders into Poland while the air force bombers and fighter planes attacked the terrain which would be taken over by the army. He had already annexed all the land in eastern Germany which had been lost after the war, but according to Hitler, the need for more Lebensraum had to include land far beyond the border. This had been his plan since he became the Reich’s Chancellor in 1933. He had made a pact with Russia, whereby the Russians agreed not to interfere with his moves to the East. To make sure other countries would not blame Germany for the starting of the war, he announced again and again on September 1, 1939, “Poland attacked us this morning at 5:45 and as of the time of their attack, we had to start defending the Fatherland.” Every hour on the government-controlled radio, we were told how many kilometers the armed forces had advanced into Poland.
Mom and Dad and I were visiting Mom’s brother Willy and his wife, Agnes, on that day. They lived about fifty miles outside of the city and we had taken a train to get there. We could sense great excitement on the train but it was Uncle Willy who broke the news to us that we were at war.
Uncle Willy was a shoemaker and he loved his occupation. He continued to make shoes until the necessary materials became very scarce, and he was forced to change his business to repairing shoes.
I think Uncle Willy had joined the Nazi Party mostly to get plenty of orders for making the different types of boots worn with various uniforms, because he never mentioned any Nazi meeting he had attended. In the same house lived Aunt Agnes’ brother Alfred, who was an ardent Nazi member and supporter. During our visit, I heard three different outlooks expressed about the war Hitler had started. Uncle Alfred was the happiest he had ever been. “Finally Hitler is starting to take over the rest of the world, which has been the Nazi plan for years,” he said, “and the time has come to wipe out all the undesirable human beings in the world and occupy is totally with Aryans. Anyone who does not agree is no Aryan and deserves to die.” Since he knew of my dad’s attitude he added, “Erich, it’s time for your to open your eyes and ears so that you will become aware of all the good Hitler has done for us.” Dad, in his usual way, disagreed and pointed out the horrible things Hitler and his cohorts had done. Neither man gave one inch, but at least there was no fistfight. Uncle Willy did not add much to the conversation on either side; his stand was that the Poles had attacked us first and therefore we had no choice but to defend our country.
Mom and Dad had not bought a Hitler Youth uniform for me and they decided for my birthday on the sixth of September to keep me home from school. There we no reaction on the next day to my having been absent. All the talk, teaching and excitement was about the war we were now fighting and all the reasons why it was necessary. No one asked if I had become a member of the Hitler Youth, if I had my uniform or if I had had my ID photo taken. There were obviously more important happenings to be concerned about – at least for the time being.
Once in a while we would see Mr. or Mrs. Guggenheimer in the grocery store. Dad always walked up to them, held out his hand for a handshake, and said, “Hello.” The Guggenheimers never made eye contact. They never spoke, they just turned their backs and if possible walked away. I always noticed tears in their eyes as well as my dad’s. Food rationing had been going on for some time, and we were getting a little extra because of Dad’s work and my young age, so we were doing all right. When we observed the Guggenheimers buying their groceries Dad realized just how little food they received. I remember Dad and Mom talking about it. They were very concerned since it seemed the Guggenheimers must be hungry all the time. Dad came up with a plan. We would put aside some of our food, and once or twice a week when he was home from work, we would somehow get the food to them. Dad’s plan worked! I went with him for the first delivery. We waited until it was dark and then we walked down the street to the Guggenheimers’ home. Dad put the groceries at the front door, rang the doorbell and together we stood behind some bushes. Mrs. Guggenheimer cautiously opened the door and nervously looked around, saw the grocery bag and called her husband. She pointed to the bag; he carefully opened it and looked inside. We saw them look at each other and talk, but we were too far away to understand what they were saying. Mr. Guggenheimer picked up the bag; they went inside and closed the door. Dad squeezed my hand; we smiled at each other and quickly skipped home like two little kids to share with Mom how everything had worked well and how the Guggenheimers most likely were enjoying a meal. Dad continued to take food to our dear friends at least once each week, and I went with him when it was possible.
It was not too long after my birthday when a Hitler Youth leader came to our home one evening when Dad was not at work. The young lady told Dad my indoctrination had been overlooked and she had been sent to set up the arrangements. She left feeling very angry and upset because she was unable to have my dad agree to her demands. He said, “I do not want Edith to become a member of the Hitler Youth.”
She answered, “She has to become a member!”
But Dad responded, “She is my daughter and therefore I should be allowed to decide what she does and does not join and what she does and does not do. I consider those decisions to be a father’s right.”
A few days later a leader of a much higher rank came to see my dad. She told him it was no longer a question of joining the Hitler Youth. I had automatically become a member on my tenth birthday and my dad’s feelings could not alter my membership status. I would be required to have my ID picture taken in uniform; one copy would have to be taken to the Registry at City Hall and a second one to the department that issued our ration cards. Dad had no choice. He asked when and where my picture was to be taken, and he was again reminded by the leader that I would have to be wearing my uniform. After the young woman left, having given the Hitler salute and Dad having said good-bye, I asked if he was going to take me to buy a uniform. He once more explained to me that it was wrong for the government to make decisions for children’s activities regardless of the parents’ feelings. I could tell he and my mom were deeply troubled and upset by the whole situation. No, he did not buy me a uniform, only the black scarf and woven leather ring to slide up the two ends of the scarf. I wore the scarf with my own white blouse when I had my ID photo taken.
My Father's Legacy 