When I first met Inga's (the girl I was dating) mother I didn't know what to expect. The mother was a product of the Nazi youth movement in WWII. In fact she was a pure Arien. She and her husband had been placed in a German breeding camp in the middle of the war. They were about 15 years old at the time. They were "mated" because of their pure Arien blood lines. The camp had all the comforts that the German people didn't have and they were treated with kid gloves. They were surrounded by people of like linage and were also "mated". Inga (my girl) had been a later product of that marriage, unlike most of the children and young adults these two stayed together because they loved each other (the "marriages" were annulled after the war by the Allies). They had an older son that was born in 1943 (when Gerta, Inga's mother, was a tender 16 years old). They were constantly indoctrinated in the Nazi propaganda. This is why I was a little hesitant to meet them, but I really loved this lady so I sucked it up, put on my best German and went to meet the folks, as wierd as this was going to be for a good old boy from West Texas, USofA. I had taught Inga "American" and she taught me good German and it's dialects.
When they first discovered that I was an American Inga got red in the face and put her head down. The way it came out was a goof in a conversation on a noun (I was still getting my nouns down). Her mother sat straight up in her chair and said, in perfect English, "Are you an American"? Well, I'd been caught, so I told the truth, yes...I'm a Texan. We were planning on breaking this gently later on in the evening but there it was and we might as well deal with it now. Inga's father (Max, Maximillion) was a wonderful guy and he stood up for me in a conversation overheard by Inga and I in the kitchen. I fully understood and spoke the language so I sat there, uncomfortably, listening and drinking the dinner wine.
Everything was cool but cordial over dinner, and it was an excellant dinner. After dinner and some probing conversation on the parents part we were ready for schnapps and brandy in the parlor. As the night wore on and we got a little more "lubricated" Inga's father (Max) started telling stories of the war and the Americans he had known and they were all positive and filled with praise about the conduct of American GIs. Pretty soon Gerta opened up (I don't think it was the booze, she hadn't had that much). She came over and sat next to me on the sofa, letting me still set next to Inga, and started talking about the first time she ever saw an American GI. I'm quoting as to the best of my memory, " I first saw them and thought that I had never seen shoulders on men like that in my life, they looked like giants. Then they would smile and you could see in their hearts that they were good and kind men, but the shoulders were wonderful". The rest of stay went very well and "the folks" treated me like an honored guest. I forged a great relationship with parents and older brother August. I had made friends in the bleakest of circumstances and despite the prejudise, I overcame it. Inga was very proud of me for my attitude and she came back with a different view of the whole matter. Inga was a Doctor, and a beautiful woman, her parents were her heros and I actually brought them over to understanding.
By the way, Gerta said that she should have known I was an American by, "those broad shoulders of yours".
End of story.
People in Europe don't hate us because of what we are, they hate themselves for what they are not and seeing us merely picks the scab off of that wound. Sure, we have a swagger when we walk, and we have "broad shoulders" but that's what freedom gives you. It also gives you the inner peace to fight for the enslaved and give them the same freedom that we have. We have courage, and we wear it on our sleeve, and we're proud of that courage. Some people can't handle that because a past of capitulation and compromise brought them slavery, and occupation. Sure we're different, but who is the first to come to the aid of oppressed people.....the good old USA, and "all the land we request in return is the place to bury our dead".
God bless us all, and pass the ketsup!
That was an excellent post .. Thank You