Burning of the books
Recent stories and films of “outraged” Afghanistan citizens setting fires and rioting in the streets was the result of American troops destroying an enemy stronghold. Part of that destruction involved a building containing anti-American propaganda material which was taken out and burned, along with copies of the Koran, sacred book of Islam. It is believed by many, including this writer, the rioting was started by extremists who are always looking for excuses to arouse public emotions against the “infidels.” This isn’t the first time.
This incident reminded me of an army assignment in Frankfurt, Germany, shortly after World War II. Our occupation forces, acting under orders from top brass, had accumulated a storehouse filled with confiscated Nazi propaganda books. There were thousands of volumes and a large fire was used to destroy them.
As I helped haul books out of the building, I couldn’t help but examine some. One big one was magnificently bound and contained several hundred photos of military parades and Hitler addressing his troops and various crowds at giant rallies around the country from Nuremberg to Berlin. It was a pompous display of the power of Nazism “in all its glory” the way Hitler wanted it to appear. The photography was flawless.
Although only 18, I disliked the idea of burning all those books. Thought at least some should be saved for study by scholars and historians. Frankly, just the cursory looks I was able to make told me things I did not know about Hitler’s Germany and about the Nazis, things I felt other Americans should know. Was seriously intrigued so I did it … hid a copy of the big book and two others in a handy pile of rubble.
Don’t remember exactly how I eventually shipped them back home, but I know I was worried about being caught and maybe court-martialed. Never did learn if there was a specific punishment for “not burning books.”
At some point in college life, I signed up for a German language class. Have discussed before about heated disagreements with the professor, and how he eventually flunked me; however, we remained on speaking terms, and I showed him the books that never got burned.
He, too, was intrigued and asked if he could borrow them for a while. I agreed, and after considerable time called his house to ask about getting the books back. His wife said he was in the hospital so told her I’d check back later. That never happened because he died.
After a respectful amount of time, I called his wife again, but she wouldn’t discuss the books. Told me to talk to her attorney. That man said he’d do what he could but wanted to know about the books. Described them, especially the big one with all the photos. Told him I had no way of proving they belonged to me. I had never written my name in them because of the manner in which they had been acquired. The professor’s wife refused to discuss the matter further, so I never learned what became of those books.
That was 59 years ago. Probably too late for me to stage a riot at the university.
G. George Ostrom is a national award-winning Hungry Horse News columnist. He lives in Kalispell.