My father's generation, the generation of perpetrators, lived by either talking about it or saying nothing at all. There seemed to be only those two options: either you kept discussing it or you never mentioned it, depending on how oppressive and disturbing you felt your memories to be.
The women and old people talked about the nights of air raids at home. The terror was broken down into details, made comprehensible, domesticated. It was dissipated, usually by anedoctes told in cozy company. Only very seldom, and then suddenly, did the horror come through.
I once saw my father standing by the stove, his hands behind his back, held out to the warmth. He was crying. I had never seen him shed tears before. Boys don't cry
. He was not just weeping for his dead son; something unspeakable was dissolving in his tears. As he stood there crying, some terrible memory was surfacing from the depths of despair, not self pity but unutterable grief, and when I asked questions he just kept shaking his head.What images were preying on his mind? Perhaps something he saw in a camp for Russians POWs was just one example of the horror, one that could be put into words and told, and he did tell it. A Russian prisoner had tried to escape and the guard fired at him, blasting the top off the man's skull, whereupon other prisoners fell on the dead man and ate his streaming brain
. For a terrible moment I suspected that my father had fired the shot himself, but then I told myself that was very unlikely for a man of his rank. He didn't even go on duty with a rifle.Uwe Timm,
In My Brother's Shadow, Farrar Straus & Giroux, 2005, pp. 93, 94.
Adendas
Numa entrevista ao El País publicada no Domingo 10 de Setembro, e resumida no dia seguinte no Público, Grass reclama o "direito de ocultar as minhas questões até encontrar formas de as expressar", e adianta um exemplo brutal: "Apenas ao escrever este livro [A Passo de Caranguejo] pude falar da repetida violação da minha mãe por soldados russos. É essa a complexidade do processo literário que se faz assim para trás em passo de caranguejo". Entretanto no dia 11 de Setembro faleceu o historiador Joachim Fest, autor da primeira biografia sobre Hitler e que ia lançar brevemente a sua autobiografia "Eu não". No Libération de 14 de Setembro podia ler-se a seguinte nota:
L'historien allemand Joachim Fest, célèbre pour avoir osé publier en 1973 la première biographie en langue allemande d'Adolf Hitler, est mort à l'âge de 79 ans. Joachim Fest, issu d'une famille très réfractaire à l'idéologie nazie, fut coéditeur du quotidien Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung durant vingt ans (1973-1993). Il expliquait le succès du nazisme en Allemagne par le charisme du Führer. Et non pas, comme d'autres historiens, par la mauvaise conjoncture économique de l'entre-deux-guerres. Auteur de dizaines de livres, dont une histoire de la résistance allemande, le journaliste devenu historien a été critiqué pour sa façon de donner une vision trop humaine des dignitaires nazis, comme l'architecte Albert Speer, auquel il a consacré une biographie, et Hitler lui-même, dont il a raconté les derniers jours. Ouvrage qui a servi de trame au film la Chute . Ne redoutant aucune polémique, Joachim Fest avait vivement critiqué l'attitude de l'écrivain Günter Grass qui vient de révéler son appartenance aux Waffen-SS. L'historien devait présenter la semaine prochaine son autobiographie, intitulée Ich nicht («moi pas»), déjà considérée par les médias comme les antimémoires de Grass.Antonio Tabbuchi, por seu lado, faz uma observação mortífera sobre a consciência de Grass: "Ce qui me touche, ce n'est pas la confession tardive. Le problème est autre pour moi et se pose sous forme d'une question. Une question qui est plus importante et plus douloureuse, selon moi. Quand il est entré aux SS, il avait 17 ans, il vivait en Allemagne, il avait sans doute lu Mein Kampf, il y avait déjà eu la Nuit de cristal, il avait assisté aux persécutions quotidiennes que les nazis infligeaient aux juifs, etc. Dès lors, je me pose la question suivante : comment un homme de 17 ans, avec toutes ces informations, n'a pas compris où était le bon côté et où était le mauvais ? C'est ça qui me tourmente." Entrevista a Emilie Grangeray, «Antonio Tabucchi : "Etre engagé avec soi-même"», Le Monde de 10 de Novembro de 2006, a propósito do lançamento do seu livro "Au pas de l'oie - Chroniques de nos temps obscurs" (L'Oca al passo. Notizie dal buio che stiamo attraversando), traduzido do italiano por Judith Rosa com a colaboração do autor, Ed. du Seuil, 240 p., 16,90 €.