UNDER THE SWASTIKA

Otago Daily Times, Issue 22352, 28 August 1934, Page 4

UNDER THE SWASTIKA

IMPRESSIONS OF GERMANY NO FREEDOM OF SPEECH HOW HITLER IS REGARDED By Cecxi. W. Lusty. Facing me in the Berliu-Amsterdam express, as it whirled across Holland, were a German and his wife. I diverted the conversation to Herr Hitler. The man, after a few searching questions, abandoned his oyster-like reserve. His wife interrupted: “ Forgive me,” she said, “ but you may be a secret agent, and we cannot risk talking about Herr Hitler, even outside Germany.” They alighted at a German provincial station. Another German—a fur merchant with headquarters in Amsterdam, who travelled bi-monthly to Warsaw—now my sole companion, said: “ You seem anxious to discuss Herr Hitler. I have two passports—American and Gorman—so I do not fear. Nevertheless, speak softly, lest the guard overhear. I was * caught ’ once, when without my American passport; the United States Embassy freed me, but there was great inconvenience.” STREET SCENES IN BERLIN. Berlin was flooded with Nazi bunting. Storm Troopers, in khaki shirts and putteed-trousers, massive revolvers by hip, swastika-sleeved and swastikacapped, were legion. Motor cars, bicycles, even perambulators, were decked with emblems. Tiny tots wore rosettes. Uniformed armies of “ youth movements ” —lads in “ shorts ” of Boy Scout age and younger—strutted defiantly, whistles by side in lieu of arms, Sunday Berlin, a whirl of automobiles, a fashion plate of colour, displayed its peacock-tail glory. A brass band, almost submerged under flags, began its Nazi tune, blaring, militant, arresting. Men, women and children stopped with military, machine-like precision; the boulevard became a sea of uplifted arms; “ Heil Hitler ” burst from guttural throats. The music ceased. Promenading Berlin resumed its even tenor. More music. The performance was repeated.

I paid no heed. Heads turned in ray direction, Brown Shirts scowled, but I was in no way molested. This has been my experience throughout Germany. A terrier dog at my hotel, upon command from the manager, sat on hind legs and solemnly raised its right paw. In the solitude of the lounge an official of the R.R.G. (the German Broadcasting Authority) grew communicative. HERR HITLER IN GERMAN EYES. “ Herr Hitler,” he answered, “i* popular. He has asked for four years to complete his programme of creating New Germany, of uniting the heterogeneous elements in the Republic, of covering our post-war shame, and of restoring Germany as a paragon of integrity, prosperity and culture among nations.

" True,” he admitted, “ free speech and criticism are denied us. It is just. You must not regard Germany solely through English eyes. Europe has never known a Hyde Park in the sense of English liberty of criticism. On the expiry of the four years Herr Hitler must account for his stewardship; until then the majority is content to withhold judgment and comment. “Herr Hitler is faced with a Herculean task; he cannot countenance interference. Those who obstruct by criticism are sent to concentration camps. Those who openly oppose and retard progress must pay the penaltylt is just. He has made mistakes, particularly over the Jewish question, but we believe he is the man of the hour and will work out our salvation. "The Storm Troops,” he contradicted, “have no militaristic significance. Germany desires peace. But we have our enemies, and it is not equitable that, by the Treaty of Versailles, we should be at the mercy of any invading armies. The ‘Heil Hitler’ salute is a means of effecting solidarity and of extending good feeling and friendship, say, after the style of a * Good Morning ’ club. “ Herr Hitler has already accomplished much,” he concluded. "He has cleansed the Augean stables of corruption and graft. By his system of voluntary labour camps he has broken the back of distress and relieved the unemployment problem. Give him the four years.” I found his verdict to be endorsed, on broad lines, by other Germans I talked with, in Berlin, and in other cities. In London and in parts of Europe Germans gave me a totally different version. WHY FRANCE IS DISLIKED. Throughout Germany I discovered a certain mistrust, if not enmity, toward France-—a feeling that, unfortunately, is reciprocated in France. The German is a keen traveller—-I have met German youths all over Europe —and is a capital linguist. Travelling is encouraged. Parents give their sons a sum of money and send them abroad to fend for themselves. They go first, say, to Paris, learning the language and accepting the most menial of duties, then to Rome and so on. I have met several Germans in good professional positions who, as young men, visited New Zealand as seamen. Many Germans speak fluent French, but few will admit it. In Cologne I spent an afternoon in the Rhine Gardens, but every German I addressed denied a knowledge of French. I was surprised when I visited the Cologne Broadcasting House, guarded by armed troopers, that the Nazi director preferred to converse in French. Even in vilages like Ulm, near the Bavarian frontier, where students stroll in mountaineering garb, and there is a charming air of hospitality and all is free and easy—in the beer-gardens, of evenings, all drink “ bock,” become merry, but not inebriated, and give the Hitler salutation with pantomime rapidity—no one will chat in French. “Why do you dislike the French?” I asked a student. Ho replied: “ Because they are arrogant and intolerant; they think the culture of the world is in Paris; they do not travel, ns we do, and try to understand other nations; during the Rhine and Saar occupation they ruthlessly destroyed the things most sacred to us.” For the visitor Germany is a most Interesting country. The great cities such as Berlin, Hamburg and Munich retain their traditional charm. Apart from the preponderance of military police there are no surface indications of unrest. Indeed, one accustomed to Continental travel takes no more notice of the swarming brown shirts than of the armed forces in other European countries ruled under conditions tantamount, in effect, to semi-martia! law. And particularly after countries such as Jugoslavia, where soldiers with bared bayonets patrol the streets, and Spain, where rifles are kept unslung. BERLIN, BY DAY, BY NIGHT. Berlin by day, city and suburbia, has a smart, rather prosperous and happy appearance. No mendicants exhibit hideous sores and deformed children, as in south and eastern Europe; banishment from the cities, as in Soviet Russia and Rome, has been their lot. The serried ranks of garden-flanked, tiled suburban cottages, the mushroom-built modern workers’ tenements and the wellkept parks and streets strike an impressive note. Berlin after dark is a riot of flashing electric signs and neon illuminations that rainbow the bowl of night; a symphony of colour painted by opera-going parties in silks and satins, by more sombre-hued

kinema queues, unci by festoons of variegated lights in beer garden greenery; a wheel of gaiety rotated by animated groups at pavement tables, couples dancing on the open-air rinks, and glamorous night life in the Potsdam and other palatial cabarets whore wine and money flow. The brilliancy rivals, if not excels, that of Paris, Vienna and Budapest. Berlin, judged by this one cross-section alone, is life and laughter, divorced of all political and economic shadows. Life and laughter! A few weeks later in this same pseudo happy city fathers and husbands faced firing squads.