child of war victims
I think I have figured something out about my father, just by intuition. I was thinking of his and my mother's different feelings about Germans. Dad quite liked them in general, Mom was wary in the early years when they joined the club. Fortunately for her, the club members were quite nice people since Germans aren't as a whole nasty folks in spite of the sadists they sent out in the 40s. Shit happens, and they've done what they must to their own culture and history to ensure it won't happen again. I have met enough people from Germany and seen enough online to believe that.
So back to Dad. The story was that he and his brother were "sent up north to find food." He told tales of getting stinging nettle and having to pee on it, hiding in ditches from the occupying forces of Hitler, and generally not finding food at all. How he came to return home or distinct stories never came. Dad wasn't one to talk about his life, even the spectacular parts like his sailing career. it would instead come out from emotional triggers like seeing children whine over a bee sting or complain about being cold, hungry, or anything else petty by contrast. Yeah, my folks probably should have passed on the breeding part, but it wasn't an option back then.
So I was thinking about his affection for Germans, and that led me to wondering what his journey was like, vs my mother hating them harder and living in the urban bad neighborhood with dark genes. Frankly they aren't blondes, although my mother learned how to colour her hair very early. I guess they start out blondish, but the bulk were brunettes and the germans showed preferential treatment only to blondes. It would have been more rough than merely having a bombing run every night somewhere in the city. At least one plane per night, I think, would fly over her city to dump a load of bombs. they didn't worry about the target below being "legitimate."
So soldiers int eh street and bombs in the air for Mom, but a journey of famine and wilderness for Dad.
Then I started to wonder if farmers gave them food, but realized they'd be running into germans on the raid, since that's how the food vanished. Ask the germans? You're two adorable little blonde dutch boys, so yes of course you beg from the germans.
What happens when pretty boys beg for food from men? Pedophiles come forward and lure and entrap the pretty boys. Only my Father and his brother would know, and their abuser. I do not think he would ever have spoken of it. it certainly would explain his spectacular hatred of gays in the early years. As he grew older he realized there were as many types of gays as anyone else, and you can't hold them all responsible for a few rapists.
It would also explain why he didn't tell tales. He'd learned to keep stuff to himself about himself. You never know which cue might lead someone, over a lifetime, to learn the shame. it doesn't exist if it doesn't exist, right? Here, a year after his death, his daughter finds the secret and puts it on the internet!
No names. Nobody's business, but a story that did happen to someone in the war, I guarantee it. These days we understand. We understand how nasty that predator is, and how easy it was to force compliance out of starving children. There is no shame to the boys, no matter how they behaved to survive. We can forgive child soldiers for the same reason. It's not their fault and nobody should treat a child that way. It's no different from blaming a nasty dog. The dog's trainer is at fault. So too with children who are as easily led by their body sensations.
So my poor daddy had hidden scars from those days and it's interesting that the largesse of his abuser kept his affection for the country even in spite of the abuse he took for however long he was gone. if he mentioned how long, I don't remember, but it was more than one night and less than a year. Whatever he did to survive, he didn't stay there any longer than he had to.
I suppose some of my understanding of why war is inexcuseable is being the child of war victims. Whatever the problem, however extreme the behaviour, we simply must use our superior intellect to fix it without bashing violently back. You don't beat off a scared snarling dog with a stick even if you must use a shield to protect yourself. You don't beat a barbarian down with weapons and expect him to learn to be civilized. Generosity is and has always been the only key to unlocking peace and gentleness. You must break bread with your enemy and the meal must be pot luck with all contributing. Only then can women and children stop being raped. Seriously, peace and prosperity is the solution to rape.
So back to Dad. The story was that he and his brother were "sent up north to find food." He told tales of getting stinging nettle and having to pee on it, hiding in ditches from the occupying forces of Hitler, and generally not finding food at all. How he came to return home or distinct stories never came. Dad wasn't one to talk about his life, even the spectacular parts like his sailing career. it would instead come out from emotional triggers like seeing children whine over a bee sting or complain about being cold, hungry, or anything else petty by contrast. Yeah, my folks probably should have passed on the breeding part, but it wasn't an option back then.
So I was thinking about his affection for Germans, and that led me to wondering what his journey was like, vs my mother hating them harder and living in the urban bad neighborhood with dark genes. Frankly they aren't blondes, although my mother learned how to colour her hair very early. I guess they start out blondish, but the bulk were brunettes and the germans showed preferential treatment only to blondes. It would have been more rough than merely having a bombing run every night somewhere in the city. At least one plane per night, I think, would fly over her city to dump a load of bombs. they didn't worry about the target below being "legitimate."
So soldiers int eh street and bombs in the air for Mom, but a journey of famine and wilderness for Dad.
Then I started to wonder if farmers gave them food, but realized they'd be running into germans on the raid, since that's how the food vanished. Ask the germans? You're two adorable little blonde dutch boys, so yes of course you beg from the germans.
What happens when pretty boys beg for food from men? Pedophiles come forward and lure and entrap the pretty boys. Only my Father and his brother would know, and their abuser. I do not think he would ever have spoken of it. it certainly would explain his spectacular hatred of gays in the early years. As he grew older he realized there were as many types of gays as anyone else, and you can't hold them all responsible for a few rapists.
It would also explain why he didn't tell tales. He'd learned to keep stuff to himself about himself. You never know which cue might lead someone, over a lifetime, to learn the shame. it doesn't exist if it doesn't exist, right? Here, a year after his death, his daughter finds the secret and puts it on the internet!
No names. Nobody's business, but a story that did happen to someone in the war, I guarantee it. These days we understand. We understand how nasty that predator is, and how easy it was to force compliance out of starving children. There is no shame to the boys, no matter how they behaved to survive. We can forgive child soldiers for the same reason. It's not their fault and nobody should treat a child that way. It's no different from blaming a nasty dog. The dog's trainer is at fault. So too with children who are as easily led by their body sensations.
So my poor daddy had hidden scars from those days and it's interesting that the largesse of his abuser kept his affection for the country even in spite of the abuse he took for however long he was gone. if he mentioned how long, I don't remember, but it was more than one night and less than a year. Whatever he did to survive, he didn't stay there any longer than he had to.
I suppose some of my understanding of why war is inexcuseable is being the child of war victims. Whatever the problem, however extreme the behaviour, we simply must use our superior intellect to fix it without bashing violently back. You don't beat off a scared snarling dog with a stick even if you must use a shield to protect yourself. You don't beat a barbarian down with weapons and expect him to learn to be civilized. Generosity is and has always been the only key to unlocking peace and gentleness. You must break bread with your enemy and the meal must be pot luck with all contributing. Only then can women and children stop being raped. Seriously, peace and prosperity is the solution to rape.