IN GERMANY NOW

Evening Star, Issue 23880, 9 May 1941, Page 10

IN GERMANY NOW

LAND OF FEAR AND SHORTAGE NECESSARIES THAT ARE EXPORTED A NEUTRAL'S STORY No. I. The following article appeared in the London ‘Sunday Chronicle’ of I'Lbruary 2, with the introduction : “Tins is a true picture of Germany lii-day. it is not wishful thinking; it is a first-hand account by at neutral observer.” In Berlin. .1 saw a disabled war veteran standing in the shelter of a Wilhehnstrasso Ministry entrance to escape a freezing wind. With one hand lie clutched the edges of a frayed and faded overcoat; with the other he held a mouth organ to his lips, and from time to time the small, thin notes of the tune ho was playing could be heard above the wind, ft was, ‘ it Must Be Paradise.’ i approached and offered him a mark, but he said ho was not playing for money. Why, i asked, was Inplaying? “ I’m expressing myself,” he said. “ I’m a philosopher.” In Vienna I joined two workmen in rigged clothes and wooden-soled slux s, who were standing in front of a radio store window. Through a loud speaker a Prussian voice was broadcasting tinlatest news. In the window was a large, coloured portrait of Hitler. The men looked at. the dank lock and blue eyes of the Fuhrer for several moments. Then one said: “Think of it, Link .wig. They expect ns to die for such a king.” “ LITTLE ADOLF.” In Munich I was present at one of the innumerable functions organised by the Nazi Labour Front. A burly, outspoken car manufacturer from Silesia had arrived and was shaking hands all around when he was suddenly confronted by a snappy young Prussian of the Ribbentrop school who clicked his heels, thrust out his chin, and stiffened his right arm in greeting. The manufacturer looked at him and the large party pin on his lapel without responding. Thou he said in a voice loud enough for all to hear: — “ Take your arm down and put that silly club pin in your pocket before someone slits open your belly.” A sudden stillness; then a single voice burst into a loud laugh, and in a second everyone ih the room was holding his sides and bellowing with hysterical glee. These incidents, picked at random from thousands oF similar ones in wartime Germany, reveal the thoughts and emotions of the millions who live in the Reich as distinct from the thousands who rule it by force and throats. In their conversations they refer to the Nazis as “ they,” to Hitler as “ he,” seldom mentioning cither by name. Only in Vienna, which has always had a hair for the romantic, have they given the Fuhrer a name, calling him “ Dolforl,” meaning “ Little \Adolf.” But in Munich and Berlin, Cologne and Breslau, where “ he ” is better known, and “ they ” have carried on their work for seven years, there arc no diminutives; only a cautiousness chilled with fear. Tho people of Germany grope through pitch-dark streets without flashlights while “ they ” send huge shipments of German-made flashlights and batteries to Spain for export to South America. They make ono small piece of strong soap last one month and one small stick of latherless shaving soap servo for five months, though the counters of Balkan cities are piled high with German toilet soup. They watch the young bodies of their children slowly dry up for lack of nourishment. They see their silver money become paper, and their nickel coins replaced by aluminium without daring to breathe the terrifying word “ inflation.” They stand in queues for hours in windy streets to obtain seven pieces of candy for their children. SMALL PRIVILEGES. They are glad to learn that if they are willing to eat pig’s head, ears, and entrails, or cow’s udder and tail, they can have double the one pound of meat to which they are theoretically entitled each week, but seldom receive. Last month they learned that dogs, wolves, and foxes had been added to tho wartime menu. They receive official notification that their sons have died for the Fuhrer ami Fatherland, but are not informed where they are buried, nor are they permitted to wear mourning or to make public display of their grief. They eat pastry made of coarse flour, skimmed milk, and grated carrot, without sugar or any kind of shortening. They see their wives and daughters taken from their homes to work 54 hours a week in armaments factories. They sacrifice their bed-linen for the hospitals, their copper kitchen utensils for tho armaments factories, the rugs from their corridors for uniforms. They try to forget old fiends and relatives whom they no longer invite to their homes because their blood is notpure Aryan. The difference between Germany and India, they whisper, is that in India one man hungers for a nation, whereas in Germany a nation hungers for one man. The people are now in the second war winter, the one they wore assured would never come, without even the slight reserves that helped them endure the first. Preserved fruits and vegetables have long since been consumed. The stores have sold tho last tin of imported canned goods. Coffee, tea, popper, spices, onions, lemons, and oranges exist only in memory. Gnarled European apples and pears, the only native fruit that can be kept for any length of time, may bo eaten only by children, expectant mothers, and invalids. Synthetic crude oil and vitamin pills derived from coal wore announced at the beginning of the war, but their ineffectiveness is to-day apparent in every German street.

(To be continued.)