Discussion in 'The Holocaust' started by Falcon1, Apr 28, 2013.
That was a quickie!
Though there was some truth in it ...
Falcon most deniers have another agenda, they are anti Semitic or ridiculously right wing in most instances. Let me relate my own “second hand” (because I was not born then) experiences.
I was born in Australia; my father was Ukrainian and emigrated here after the war. My mother was Russian and she arrived here separately. They met and married in 1955. At the time the Germans invaded Russia my mother’s family had just moved to the Ukraine, Taganrog. My father’s background and place of birth is unknown to me.
They had three kids and none of us speak anything but English. My father had set out to Anglicise us and only English was spoken in the household. Which of itself made meaningful communication difficult given they both spoke very broken English, but I think that suited them. We lived like five boarders, each having their own life and the only “family” aspect to this is we all lived in the same house.
Neither of them were nurturing, my mother summed it up once thusly “I fed you I clothed you and that is all I can do for you." What you don’t have you don’t miss and it wasn’t until I was a teen that I realized other families are a load closer than mine, but I put it down to my parents being psychologically disjointed in their teens due to the war.
My father NEVER discussed the war or his family background. I have perhaps half a dozen anecdotes about his life as a small boy that were related to me as a “life lesson” of some kind, so I knew nothing about him. My mother on the other hand had furnished a full history of her life to us kids. She told me how the German army used their villiage as a base. How she watched handsome young Vermacht leave to fight in the morning only to be carried back dead in the evening. She saw dogfights with the Russians and Stukas roaring over her head.
She said the Germans did not particularly mistreat the population of her town....but three months after they arrived she was shipped to Germany as slave labour so I think she was lucky to be there during the “honeymoon” period. Post Stalingrad I expect the attitude had changed. She said the journey was not particularly harrowing as they were well fed and they were young...she was 14.
She related a story about a selection process at a train station that had the young girls split into two lines. She was on her own but felt that the other line was where she wanted to be. She went across but the policeman dragged her back, she put up an argument and eventually the cop let her stay. She boarded another train, a passenger car this time and was taken to work for farmers in Westfalen. She spent from November 1941 to April 1945 on the farm. She has a great deal of respect and admiration for the farmer and his wife who was childless but eventually billeted young people from all over occupied Europe, not to mention the Hitler Youth who came there to work each school holiday....mum was very very lucky, they were good Catholics.
My father had no past, in Australia he only socialised with a select group. My godfather was German, married to a Ukrainian woman. My godmother was Ukrainian, married to a German guy, and the Ukrainians and Latvians that finished the circle all disliked my mother because she was Russian, I mean that they would curse at her when they were drunk, nothing physical of course. I being a kid did not understand the dynamics of this social set. They all lived “ordinary” anonymous lives but there was a well hidden but underlying vicious streak in all the men, that is something I did notice early on, I wouldn’t dare but show respect to any of them, the old man included.
Shoot forward to when I was 30. I was visiting the folks one time and my mother told my father to show me a letter he received from interstate. He didn’t want to so she went to get it. It was in English from someone claiming o be a first cousin of the old man. Neither parent had any relatives in Australia to our knowledge. The letter was almost a non letter, sort of best wishes and greetings with a contact phone number and that was about it.
The old man denied knowing the guy...who used an Anglicised surname name like the old man, and he wouldn’t talk about it, he took the letter back. Ten years later he dies and going through his stuff we find the letter. I phoned the guy and told him of the old mans passing. I told him that my father said he didn’t know him and certainly was not his cousin. He asked for my address and said that he would send me something and cut the conversation short saying he was not feeling well and had a doctors appointment.
A few days later we received a picture of a man the same age as the old man and who looked exactly like my father....not nearly, not closely resembled, the gene pool was evident, could have been twins and a note saying ring me urgently. I phoned immediately and my “uncle” asked if I believed he was dad’s cousin. Absolutely I replied and told him what I have told you guys about my familily dynamic, that dad he never ever said so we knew nothing.
He told me that his father and my father's father were brothers and lived all their lives on the family farm in two side by side houses divided by the width of a cart. He had seen my father every day of his growing life...at that point something ominous started tugging at my brain and I felt uncomfortable. I asked him about any family here, to which he responded quickly with no, then asked me, “did you know your father was a policeman?”
I said no, and then he said they were both policemen. He then asked if i was sure that my father said absolutely nothing about what he did during the war, to which I responded, nothing never. There was a pause and then he said “he didn’t tell you what we did to the Jews?” I went cold, I was not a historian but I knew enough to see a line of factual circumstance presenting itself.
My next words out were “did he kill jews” to which the new found uncle said that we should not talk about this on the phone and can I come interstate immediately. I told him that I would have to think about but he implored me to leave the next day, I said goodbye and hung up. I discussed it with the family and the pieces all fitted together terribly well. I asked my mother and she said that he had told her as much as he told us, but she didn’t believe it. I asked her if some of his crazy mates were capable of it and she thought hard and said, but not your father.
A few weeks had gone by and I decided to ring my uncle and put off going to see him, but it rang out, so I left it as I was already in “possible scenario” overload. A week later I got a call from the local police station in my uncle’s town asking if I knew him. I briefly told the cop he was a long lost uncle that I had contacted just recently, the cop said he died, the smell alerted the neighbours. Why the cops rang me was because my number was one of three in the teledex...his doctor his solicitor and me. The cops asked if I had proof of kinship, which I didn’t, my father had changed our name twice by deed pole and the name my father emigrated with was not the family name as told to me by my uncle who himself was now known as "Johnson".
Nobody else in the family was interested but I was always interested in the war years.
I just let it sit for another five years then on a whim to find an answer I visited the remaining three of my father’s circle of friends. None had come to his funeral and it was at least 25 years since I had seen them. The first was my godfather, after the shock and greeting I immediately told him the story. He and his wife listened with a look somewhere between horror and surprise. Then the denials of any knowledge of anything including what the old man did between 1941 and 1945. It was an uneasy vibe so I thanked and kissed them then left.
A week later I went to see the “nut from Hill Street” as my mother and father referred to this perpetually angry mate of my fathers. When he opened the door he was surprised to see me but not shocked. He ushered me into his front room and his wife appeared, and then disappeared to get some tea. I again just dived straight into the story. He responded as soon as I stopped.
He gave me an almost month by month account of what he was doing from 41 to 45, it took him 15 minutes. He had been so busy accounting for himself that I had to ask him again if he thought what my “uncle” said about the police and the Jews and my father was possible. His response was angry “who is this stupid man, I will fix him.” On that note I left. At the door he referred to something that I had said to my godfather about my uncle but not to him, so I knew they had talked.
The third was the same, surprised but not shocked to see me after 25 years. This one listened like the others and then launched into his background with a tale about even employing Jews in his father’s factory.... and he was the only one to throw in “I like Jews.”
Among my father’s papers there was a steady stream of correspondence in Ukrainian from Brazil between 1949 to 61. Wedding photos of a short sullen groom and his bride in a Brazilian street.
There are pictures of the old man with guys in lederhosen dated 1946, a picture of him with a German family at Bertengarten in 1947, in fact a load of pictures of him living like a local in Germany until 1948.
But there is one of him that is not dated but you can see that he is years younger than the 1946 pictures. I would guess he was 17 /18 so it is probably 1942/3. He is sitting at a table in a black shirt with a Cosmopolitan magazine opened in front of him. I wonder where a Ukrainian farm boy would get a Cosmopolitan magazine in a war zone somewhere in the Ukraine or anywhere in the east.
My mother thinks that dad grew up in a part of the Ukraine that was governed by Poland just before the war. She said the old man spoke Polish like a native, and he told me once that he had learnt German during the war...he was fluent.If you are going to work with the Germans anihalating Jews in the East the three language skills to have would be Ukraine/Russian, Polish and German. He was a perfect candidate to work within the aparatus of the Deutch sponsored Jewish pogram, he has always been a Ukraine nationalist, a lot of them were like the nut from Hill Street.
I kick myself for not getting to the uncles but the "what we did to the Jews" was enough for me right there and then. I really kick myself now, he knew he was going to die and I appeared out of nowhere, a close relative but a perfect stranger,I missed a death bed testimony. But Falcon my obvious interest in the subject and my ethnic background has given me the opportunity to get bits and pieces from other old patriots from Belarus/Ukraine and the Baltic States. They all hooked into the Jews. I am convinced albeit the Zionists and the likes of Speilberg revert to lies when there is absolutely no reason to expand on the scale or the bestiality that nations employed against the weak and innocent.
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