When the Flagpoles Bloomed

by Vera Oredsson

  After elementary school and the School of Commerce with private lectures in Swedish in the Viktoria parish, I tried a short time in a government-run agricultural school, but on the advice of the SS (Protection Squadron, translator’s note) I transferred over to the brown National Socialist school in Thorn, which was a part of the social society activity NSV, Nationalsozialistische Volkswohlfahrt, meaning “National Socialist People’s Welfare”. I had finally been able to choose my own vocation, free of the meddling from my parents and relatives, and this was thanks to a government that today is so intensely lied about! I obtained the schooling I felt comfortable with. The yoke of feeling stupid, hopeless, and uneducable was lifted from my shoulders there. The teachers brought out my self-confidence and the principal was completely satisfied with how I took in their teachings, without having to feel fear or anxiety over the evening questionings about my homework. I had reached my goal and the path that in the end led me straight to being a National Socialist.

  October 1993

  Vera Oredsson

  Vera’s paternal grandfather Wilhelm Schimanski as a young officer in the service of the Emperor.

  The Flagpoles are Blooming

  For the Thanksgiving celebration, Berlin put on its finest apparel to receive farmers, dressed in national attire, with decorated horse-drawn wagons in long caravans. While the drivers held the reins, women threw flowers to the spectators. There were shouts of joy and belief in the future. Gorgeous weather and flowers, flowers … flags, flags …

  Behind me I could hear a child’s voice from out of the crowd: “Look Father! The flagpoles are blooming!” I turned around and saw a small, enthusiastic chap on his father’s shoulders, pointing at the tall flagpoles around the square. They were decorated with wound, verdant garlands and their tops were crowned with colourful flower bouquets, while the flags hung like standards of proud messages of joy. The father’s gaze followed the boy’s pointer finger and he answered, “Yes, the flagpoles are blooming, my boy.” Indeed, never have the flagpoles been decorated with so many flowers and golden ribbons as during the time of the Third Reich … anywhere, ever.

  A young and tired Vera lying and resting.

  Shimanskis on their wedding day.

  Daily Life

  I always feel an indulgent smile in me when the rural folk talk about how they view city dwellers. They like to describe city dwellers as lost, bored, disharmonious, and rootless, but yet with an air of being superior to rural people. This is not how it really is.

  City folk, generally speaking, love their city, their street, and their neighbourhood just as much as the farmer or anyone else who lives in a rural area loves his farm, his house, his property, and his home turf. This naïve attitude can even be disastrous when eager architects who have grown up in the country or in small towns come to the big city. They are convinced that they can just tear down houses and whole blocks and put up ugly sky-scrapers, office and bank buildings or other showpieces, or just level the ground for parking lots. These architects and building contractors or influential politicians have no idea that the city folk would feel sadness, longing, or grief over being forced to move to another neighbourhood or suburb.

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  Berlin is an enormous metropolis with millions of inhabitants. The inner city has the world-famous shopping street called Kurfürstendamm, with rows of stores on the ground floor and up. It has department stores and restaurants, cafés with indoor and outdoor service, and of course apartment buildings. Along the sides and centers of the streets there are beautiful plantations. On top of all this there is the traffic, private cars, buses, and subway stations.

  And then there is the most fashionable street in town, Unter den Linden, with Brandenburger Tor. The outlying areas are less-known to visitors and tourists, as well as to TV-viewers. I grew up southeast of city center in a district called Steglitz. Before the war and terror bombings, this area consisted mainly of ornamented buildings from the turn of the century. The streets were wide and there were huge trees along the sidewalks on both sides of the streets. In front of the houses there were small yards fenced in with imaginative iron constructions. These fences were melted down for the war industry once the war was upon us.

  The streets were named after the trees that lined them. Having trees that lined the streets was something peculiar to Berlin. Unter den Linden (Under the lime trees) is of course known to all, but there was also Unter den Eichen (Under the Oaks, translator’s note), Ahornstraße (Maple Street, translator’s note), Ebereschenallee (Mountain Ash Avenue, translator’s note), and Kastanienallee (Chestnut Avenue, translator’s note). These names clarified what kinds of trees grew there. These planted trees gave a wonderful accord with the seasons. The blooming chestnuts with their red and white “Christmas tree lights”, lavished their display of colours over the sidewalks and roadways. A little lane was built by hawthorn bushes that with their small red bunches of roses shone so beautifully. Nevertheless, we called the street Kesselring Avenue because the famous general lived there. The trees also instilled a feeling of freshness and air, especially when the rain showers came after a heat wave. That is when one could witness how the windows were opened wide and the people inside inhaled the delightful fresh air and the wonderful smell of fresh leaves. At times like this, the people perked up and those living on the lower floors put pillows on the window sills so they could talk to one another or with neighbours who were passing by.

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  Steglitz is adjacent to Friedenau, Wilmersdorf and Dahlem. Dahlem was seen as a “ritzy” area with grand houses. When class-consciousness was rubbed out by National Socialism, the area was called “where the rich people live” with the intention that one could hopefully be “rich” without belonging to a certain “class”.

  Amongst the many exaggerated lies about the Third Reich, it is very seldom that day-to-day life during the time of that government is talked about. Life was not much different from the daily life in other countries, at least when it comes to what we recognize from other European countries. It was presumably safer, though. In German fashion it was more uniformed, disciplined, and had the decisive ideology of solidarity of the people as its foundation. When the war came upon us this vision was never fully completed. It is an ideological goal that takes generations to completely permeate the collective soul of the people.

  We Berliners, just like other Germans, did not go around fearing for our lives nor were we suppressed or afraid that an unguarded word would be overheard and interpreted as criticism against the government, which is how daily life was in communist dictatorships. Oh, no, no one, not even Adolf Hitler, could put gags on Germans in general or Berliners in particular. People spoke openly and freely about whatever they had on their minds or on the tips of their tongues. During the war it may have been the case that people needed to be more careful and “watch their tongues”, but was it not the same way in Sweden at that time? “EN SVENSK TIGER” (a Swede keeps his mouth shut) became an accepted slogan. On the other hand, it must be remembered that in today’s Germany, Germans are not allowed to say either “Heil Hitler” or sing certain songs, and right now (June, 1994) a law is being passed that can give up to 3 years in prison for denying the Holocaust.

  Germans during the Hitler era were allowed to travel freely, both domestically and internationally. Smaller grants were even given to those who were not so well-off for such trips. The social welfare system was built up and it became a model for other countries, not to mention for our Swedish Social Democratic welfare state. The words “National” and “Socialism” were not empty words; they were the very real foundation of the country called the Third Reich.

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  Family life was free from government influence. Each family solved its own problems and lived according to its own rhythm. People worked, entertained themselves, shopped, and went in for different leisure activities according to their own desires
and interests. It was only those who were politically active and more interested in the development of society whose daily lives could be affected.

  During the day it was rare one would see uniformed men on the streets of Berlin. One saw mothers out shopping. Tradespeople hurried home to their families after work. Children were seen on their way to or from school. Friends were seen talking or out strolling. On Sundays families were seen out for walks in the areas’ beautiful parks, something there were many of in Berlin, some bigger than others. Father and I, later my brother and I, or our whole family, often went for walks along a wide avenue from Breitenbach to Dahlem. The avenue consisted of a wide garden that divided the roadway and was lined with, in my opinion, ugly 1920s functional houses in thin rows.

  One thing that always put me in a solemn mood was the mighty ringing of the church bells that echoed out from all the churches in Berlin. These dark, wonderful, heavy strokes summoned Protestants and Catholics to church.

  We often went to the Botanical Garden, where well cared-for gardens covering a great area gave a tender display of rich colours in the spring and with magnolia trees that looked like some rogue had put water lilies on their cold branches. The way home went through small allotment-garden areas where Berliners with their cultivations wanted to outdo each other with their delightful flowers. This kind of city dweller’s leisure activity was personally encouraged by Adolf Hitler in order to direct the simple citizen’s leisure interests towards something more than meeting up in the beer parlors.

  If it rained or if the weather was not inviting enough for walks, we went to museums and castles in city center, or to the beautiful Potsdam with its historical atmosphere. Or one stayed at home and worked on one’s interests and hobbies at home.

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  There were no problems with either food or housing. Housing and food were considered to be the most important rights of the citizens, according to the National Socialist state. On top of that, the standard of living was raised every year that the National Socialists were in power. Hermann Göring, as Home Secretary, put through lowering of rents for all older living areas and recommended right of possession after a certain number of years for conscientious tenants.

  School remained politically uninfluenced, generally speaking. On the other hand, segregation between Protestants and Catholics was abolished. The only thing that was kept separate was religious instruction.

  The school I went to was just a block away from home. It was a yellow brick building with verdant trees that grew on the big school yard, which my school shared with an adjacent one. These trees marked the border between our school yards.

  I was lucky to attend a school where principal Kollander was a devoted National Socialist. He was murdered by the Communists in 1945. (He had a quote from Dr. Goebbels on his door: “Praised be everything that rendered me harder”. The same quote is the source of inspiration to both of G. A. Oredsson’s memoirs.)

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  Every Monday morning the school week started with a call and oath of allegiance to National Socialism. The principal often invited our parents to meetings and arranged school parties and field trips.

  Classes were flexible, that is to say they were often governed by the weather, which the school children in Germany were very grateful for because they had such a short summer holiday. Just six weeks in July and August. When the weather was nice and sunny, the principal quickly and easily arranged field trips, like boat trips down the Spree Channel to the islands. Pfaueninsel (Peacock Island) was a favourite spot to visit, for there one could find the beautiful birds freely making spectacles of themselves with their brilliantly coloured feathers, even if their songs were not all that melodious. Visits to castles and other inspiring buildings that gave us a feeling of connectedness were often incorporated into history classes.

  The Olympic Stadium treated us to refreshing swims in its large pools. The school’s own school yard was located near an allotment garden area, where we learned about gardening and composting, and where we gained insights into the effect of the seasons on plant life. We learned general skills in how to dig, chop, thin out, and cultivate plants.

  After such wonderful days of such classes we naturally had to catch up on the more theoretical knowledge with extra lecture hours, but our school days were never as long as they were in Sweden. Our classes ended at 2:00 pm at the latest on the long days.

  The last year of school was comprised of several hours of education in child care and home economics. When it came to the classes in child care, the girls had to find large dolls to be used as instruction material. We brought in our dearest ones and with laughs and “words of abuse” we compared our dolls before the more serious instruction took over with diaper changing, feeding, etc.

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  Our school on Lepiusstraße was exhibited as a model National Socialist school. The radio station often came for a visit and broadcasted our appeals and lectures to its listeners.

  Life felt safe and secure.

  Health care under the National Socialist government became available to everyone. The well-organized health insurance was income-regulated, but with the same consultations for everyone. Dental and eye care were also included. Preventative health care was recommended and increased consumption of vegetables, exercise, sports, and outdoor activities were encouraged. Not to mention the importance of personal hygiene.

  Regulations for light-filled and airy homes and child-friendly environments were put in place. One thing I found to be a terrible backwardness was the stinky garbage wagons that were seen on the streets of Stockholm in the 1940s and -50s. In my early childhood, Berlin had already covered and closed garbage trucks that crushed the garbage when it was loaded. It is true that these made quite a racket, but they were certainly more hygienic than the stinky and fly-filled wagons in Stockholm.

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  People ordered fresh bread to have with their morning coffee. It was hung on the door handle together with the milk bottles. With my childish feeling of justice and fervour for the less fortunate, I handed out the white cloth bags and their contents to those I thought needed them most on my way to school in the morning. A venture that elicited both admiration and uproar in my staircase.

  What about the Jews? I know that some of my readers are going to ask about them. Yes, we children irritated them with different practical jokes like drawing the Star of David on their doors with chalk, but we never went as far as serious violence. And it must be said that during the war when the gold star was proclaimed to be worn by the Jews, we felt somehow embarrassed and our pranks ceased. The gold star that was worn by the Jews was an invention of Wilhelm Canaris, the head of German intelligence, who towards the end of the war was revealed as a double agent in English service. On the initiative of the English, he was given the task of pushing through this decision, which gave the desired result: Germans quietly did not accept that the Jews should bear the gold star and mostly felt sorry for them when they saw them with flowers in their arms to conceal the star.

  Swedes and many others with them will never be able to understand the problem with the Jews as it really was in the 1920s and -30s. The mass media, the legal system, businesses, movies, theatre, all higher posts called intellectual professions, the banks, the stock exchange … were owned, controlled, and influenced by the Jews.

  Is this because they were especially gifted and talented? NO. It is not that simple. It is their uniting strength that makes the difference. Something we National Socialists, especially after 1945, totally miss: support one another, help each other when it comes to employment and livelihood, etc. A Jew within established and leading institutions, state-owned or private, makes sure that there will be even more Jews, in other words more kin, in the place in question. They come first in line and slowly whole companies, banks, mass media, film, theatre, the whole state, are controlled by Jews. This is what National Socialism wanted to break down.

>   ###

  Enough about that. That direction was certainly not the central one for the every-day life of a National Socialist. The government hardly had the ambition to want to force its way into people’s private integrity. The outbreak of the war forced demands on solidarity so as to fight, as painlessly as possible, for its own people against both the outside as well as the inside enemy.

  Any visible under-the-table stock sales or trading in a crisis, as there were in other countries that were affected by the war, did not exist. If even the slightest incident like that were discovered and revealed, it was heavily penalized. That is why the German food industry, though scanty towards the end of the war, functioned without starvation until the final day of independence.

  The pictures on TV, in movies, and in books, most often distorted and falsified, that show thin inmates in camps upon “liberation” are the result of “the liberator’s” own war conduct. During the last weeks of the war they carpet-bombed industries, factories, and farms, anything that had anything to do with food production and transport. A person, prisoner in a camp or free, does not need many weeks without food to be turned into a skeleton and die of starvation. And those who died in this way can thank their “liberators” and their terrorist war conduct for their fate.

  Easter of 1945 I remember that we got our egg ration increased despite the fact that large parts of the country lay in ruins. To this very day I think that was fantastic, when one sees these profiteering and food-producing extortionists in war-waging countries of the day, where the affected citizen does not have a chance to buy even the most essential goods. This problem never arose for the German people in Germany under the Third Reich. They deserve great praise for this, without reservation.