Nazi Recollections

G. GEORGE OSTROM / For the Hungry Horse News

Not many of us can forget what happened under Hitler at Buchenwald and other concentration camps, especially if we had the jolting experience of touring one. Neither can we forget the fascist Nazis who ran them.

Got to pondering World War II things again last week after reading an article about the "Lebensborn Kinder." Those unfortunate children were the product of parents chosen for their traits to breed Hitler's idealized blue-eyed Aryan race. Some were reared on what amounted to "breeding farms." Others were kidnapped babies from countries overrun by the German Army and turned over to hand-picked SS officers to be raised according to Nazi doctrine. Except for a rare few who were brought up by their blood mother, most were never able to find information about who their real parents were.

Out of an estimated "up to 8,000" Lebensborn, there are now a few dozen aging survivors who have united to tell their stories while they are alive. All recall somehow knowing 'something wasn't quite right" while they were being raised. They have formed support groups to help each other. One woman, Violet Wallenborn, found her mother was a Norwegian singer and her father a Nazi choir director. Few found anything.

There is no limit to the atrocities committed in the name of Nazism, and memory of that fact is what caused the following recollection:

Iris and I still joke about what happened in 1962, think it was a Saturday. My Peace Corps aunt was visiting us in Washington, D.C., before going on assignment to South America. Driving around the nation's capital, we were going east on Pennsylvania Avenue and about 15th Street, near the White House, we saw a young man in a Nazi uniform, goose stepping the sidewalk carrying a sign. He had a stereotype arrogant look and it was more than I cared to tolerate. His swastika armband was probably the catalyst that made me pull over to the curb and start climbing out. (Wrote about this when I was doing the column from Washington, so those few who remember the punch line can skip this if they'd like.)

So! I get out of the car and Iris grabs my sleeve saying, "George, what on earth are you doing? This is a 'no parking' area."

I bent down to argue, "Honey, I'll explain later but right now I'm going to stomp that worthless S.O.B."

"George" she pleaded, "You can't do this. Calm down … PLEASE. You have two little kids here. Besides you could get hurt."

"Iris, I guarantee it will be him who goes to the hospital. Just slide over and drive around the block a couple of times."

Right then a large policeman arrived. He walked up to me and asked, "What seems to be the trouble here?"

Tried to act nonchalant, "I put a few years in the U.S. Army back in the '40s and I just wanted to say a few words to the clown in the Nazi suit."

The cop did not approve of the idea, "You're about the 15th Ex-GI who stopped here since I've been on duty. The Nazi character in not breaking any law as long as he keeps moving, but you're breaking one parking here. Just cool down, get back in your car, and keep the peace."

I did that … but was still upset. After we got home, I considered going back by myself and having a talk with the Nazi but the adrenaline wasn't pumping quite as hard, and anyway I figured I could get him or one of his friends Monday on the way to college classes. If they were still there.

Sunday morning Iris was reading "The Post " newspaper and there was a brief report about a man who stopped his car by the White House on Saturday, leaped out, and pounded some guy in a Nazi suit right into the sidewalk. The final paragraph said the Nazi stomper had appeared in justice court, pleaded guilty to misdemeanor assault and been fined $15. Iris read that to me, then said, "Gee Honey. If I'd known that's all it would cost, I'd have let YOU do it."

I'm still not convinced … she actually meant it.

G. George Ostrom is a Kalispell resident and a national award-winning Hungry Horse News columnist.