This post originally appeared on Snark and Sensibility with Linda Wood Rondeau.
This year, Thursday June 6th marks the 80th anniversary of the Allied landings at Normandy. Has it really been eighty years since the turning point of the Second World War? Earlier this spring, I could not shake the feeling that there was something I ought to do as an author of WWII fiction, even though I write my stories from the German perspective.
Obviously, D-Day holds a different significance in Germany than it does in the United States. As historians chronicle the major events between the decisive German victories in the beginning of the war, and the increasing defeats later on, most would cite the battle of Stalingrad as a more significant turning point, the first omen that the war would not end well for Germany.
How might I observe this date that holds so much significance in the United States (I myself am the granddaughter of a US Marine) while still giving voice to the soldiers I have come to love so much through their memoirs, photographs, and descendants?
By 1944, the German population was sick of war. In spite of the photos and film reels we see of Germans saluting and cheering Adolf Hitler during the 1930s, there were many who did not support him. Either they never wanted him to begin with, or they realized too late what he truly was. This late in the war, many cities (civilians) were being bombed day and night by the Allies. Even many of the soldiers were sick of fighting.
On the other hand, many German youths, boys just barely of fighting age, were chomping at the bit to get into the action. Because they had grown up under the Nazi regime, they were deeply indoctrinated, and of the right age to be fanatical in a way their older counterparts were not.
It is from the perspective of one of these young men that I decided to write my novelette, Hans Waldemar Remembers Normandy. Giving the benefit of the doubt for a moment, young men of any generation have the energy and capacity to be fanatical about something. In our generation, frivolities like sports and video games often consume their attention. Unfortunately, the young men of 1944 only had one option: you will be forced to be (or at least to act) fanatical about your Führer.
The story opens with a flashback, but “Waldi” (as he was affectionately known by his comrades in 1944) soon wakes up in a cold sweat, a 97-year-old veteran who has been asked to share his story in his great-granddaughter’s history class. It is this speaking engagement that has dredged up years of buried memories.
Because the story is only 8,000 words long, it does not go into the details of his past the way I would have liked, but it is clear that his family has hidden the fact that he was not simply a soldier in the army. Waldi was a young member of the SS.
The silence in his family represents that which existed in many families, regardless of what branch of the German military their forefather served in. For many, the silence still exists today. Eight thousand words was also not enough to allow Hans and his family to have the conversations I wanted them to have. However, they arrive at the precipice: the decision that it is time to talk about the past, and take an active role in healing.
I have a German friend who discovered some pictures of her grandfather in his German army uniform. At first, she was horribly upset: “My grandfather was a Nazi!” It is not an uncommon reaction for her generation. Many of the memories of that period were stuffed away, burned or buried (literally), and intentionally forgotten. Even here in America, I have been told by people whose ancestors arrived from Germany long before the world wars, “Yes, I think my family is German, but my parents grew up during the war, so they never talked about it.”
Though Hans Waldemar Remembers Normandy is written to appeal to readers both in and outside of the Christian faith, there is something that I hope will grab the attention of Christian readers. Hans himself is not a religious man, but his granddaughter Lila is, and she recalls this verse from a Sunday sermon:
…visiting the iniquity of the fathers upon the children to the third and fourth generations of those who hate Me, but showing mercy to thousands, to those who love Me and keep My commandments...
She says, “There have been at least four generations since the generation that was responsible for all that. Even you young men were victims of your parents’ generation. You did what you were brought up to do… Maybe it really is time for healing.”
Hans thinks his granddaughter may be overthinking things, but is she? In America we don’t realize how deep these wounds run, but the fact is, it is a real thing for German families. Many Germans talk about the “collective guilt” that plagues them, even though they were not born until decades after the war.
Hans Frank, a German politician and devoted Nazi, said in 1946, “A thousand years will pass and the guilt of Germany will not be erased.” But is that what God wants? Or is it something that Jesus died to put right?
This is one of the reasons I felt the need to write something for people who are not ready to dive into an 80,000- or 100,000-word novel. I know readers love a good trope, but I also know that someone has to be willing to stop reiterating the stereotypes and tell the rest of the story. We know that history is written by the victors, and that we are used to the past the way it has been presented to us for eighty years. Still, as a Christian, in light of the verse above, I can’t help but ask:
Is it time to forgive Germany?
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