← Autodidact Archive · Original Dissent · triskelion
Thread ID: 9204 | Posts: 1 | Started: 2003-08-22
2003-08-22 06:10 | User Profile
GERMANY AND ITS PLACE IN EUROPE: THE COMRADES OF YESTERDAY AND TOMORROW
When it occurs to talk about the German soldier, our yesterday ally in the struggle against the Bolshevik beast, we automatically think at the invader image marching upon Bucharest streets - an image promoted by the Communist movies. But if we have the curiosity to ask the elders about the German soldiers, we shall find out that they were honest young men, galant and civilized. Always they rewarded the small favors done by the peasants which sheltered them temporarilly, they corectly payed every shopping and they were beloved by the children. Also we - the 'extremists of Gazeta de Vest' - had recently the occasion to meet the young German of today which doesn't hides after the tv when he observes the rope of the New World Order strangling tighter and tighter around the neck of his nation. The devouted soldier of yesterday is reflecting in the political soldier of today. It is a nice morning at the end of July. We are in the border checkpoint of Bors, waiting for the arrival of three guests from Germany, young activists of NPD (Nationaldemokratische Partei Deutschland). It's easy to recognize them among the tourists which came to see 'the natural beauties' of Bucharest (there is none, translator's note), to escalate the heights of Baragan (Baragan is a plain, tr.n.) and to surf the sea in Predeal (Predeal is an Alpine-Carpathian resort, tr.n.), cats with French citizenship, borderless Jehova's witnesses, defenders of the little animals rights, softy Europenists and other species of various consumers. For a week long, our guests will be offered the occasion to get in contact with the present activities of the Romanian nationalists and they will visit historical areas where hard battles took place in the postwar anti-Communist fights of Romania. We hand one envelope to each of them, which contains, among others, a Daily Program (Tagesplan) which will be followed all the way through Romania. With two cars, we head for the Western Carpathians, where many young Romanians are working at the buildiung of an Orthodox monastery. We warn them that, although Romania is not in state of war with anybody, the roads are crossed randomly by trenches. At the monastery, we are welcomed by the monk and all our comrades. Because it is Sunday, we have plenty of time to talk, we attend the evening prayer and after that the three elders - Legionaries who carried the struggles of the '30s, the National-Legionary Revolution of 1940, the war and the Gulags - are sharing with all of us memories of the past. There is no problem with the language because there are three Romanians speaking German. The evening talking streches into the deep night and, even the father monk warns us that tomorrow is Monday and that we'll have to rest for the work, we difficultly manage to get in bed at small hours. It's Monday, the first day of the week, and the work at the monastery has to be restarted. After the morning prayer, we take the breakfast and then pass under the orders of the father monk (he is young, 24, and has the mission to raise here a nice Orthodox monastery), he coordinates every activity in this place. With their well known discipline, our German comrades are working all day long, together with us under the hot and shiny sun. Before the evening prayer we resume the talking. We know that the German nationalism hasn't a Christian origin, that is why we have to touch sensible matters. In its relations with the Church, the Reich proved a lot of respect; we find out that in 12 years of National Socialist government, in Germany were built hundreds of churches, but the fight against the New World Order and multiculturalism (similar with that of yesterday, against Communism) has only psycological determinations from the Northern mythology. Personally, our guests understand the mystical motivation of the Romanian nationalism but they are not able to pass upon the rational level, for them the Christian condition being just a formality. We get to sleep long time after midnight, thinking how far away are these young Germans from their generation mates: some of them singing about the work and effort by which they will feed and give dignity to the German people; and others listening to techno-music, wearing earrings, smoking hashish and spending their time in discos. Tuesday in the morning we are preparing for the departure. I shall be their guide for three days in the Transylvanian Alps. Just two days were enough for our guests to attach themselves to the beauties of the Western Carpathians and to their Romanian comrades. The farewell takes long. First we visit the city of Cluj Napoca and the bookshop set up here by the heartly young Romanian nationalists of Transylvania. The Germans are surprised and pleased to see the free public selling of the Legionary books in the bookshop. In Germany, nationalism is brutally forbidden in favor of the melting pot of the multicultural society of Negroes, Arabs, Turks, Asians, which cannot pay any respect for the traditions and rules of the German land, foreign to them but occupied by them. The little problems of a driving through neo-Communist Romania are hitting us too. Because there was no Diesel fuel until Aiud, we are obliged to buy some from a truck driver at more than double price. Another trouble, a Fanariot sellswoman tricks one German comrade (he didn't knew well the Romanian money Lei) with about 35.000 Lei (which means about $12); that could happen because he left alone to do the shopping. I try to explain them that only few sellers are thieves but this phenomenon cannot be expelled in a country where every Gipsy can be crowned as king or emperor. After that, we pass through the city of Alba Iulia, the spiritual and historical capital of Romania, where we stay for half an hour. The road is getting worse. If only the roads would be reasonable, a lot of the image of our country will be improved. Between Sibiu and Fagaras, near the village of Cartisoara, we turn to the right, on the road straight through the massiv of the Transylvanian Alps. We install the tent at the base of the mountains. We stay around the firecamp and I begin to tell them about the anti-Communist resistance of the mountains, led and organized by the Legionaries. Because of the almost impossible accessibility, the Transylvanian Alps were the latest fortress unconquered by the Securitate forces. - In our country, there wasn't such a guerrilla war, a German comrade tells me. You, Romanians, have opposed the longest resistance against Communism. After that, I'm told a lot of interesting things about heroic German fightings during the war in Russia, and also about the bitter resistance carried by the last German fighters at the end of the war when, in Dresden, there were butchered aprox. 500.000 civilians by the Democrat-Allied carpet bombings. By comparation, the German weapons were shaped in order to attack precise military targets (like the 'Stukas') and not with the purpose of massive distruction. I'm told also about the out of common heroism of the people of the fortress city of Breslau; they resisted the invasion until almost the end of the war; the bomb carpets have destroyed everything around them, the surrounding tanks were either killed, either fallen into the deep traps, so that the people of Breslau succeeded to resist even when the front was moving out towards Berlin. Late in the night, we make some steps to refresh ourselves. A fairy landscape is laying in front of our eyes: the Northern wall of the mountain profiled on a sky pure like glass, under the light of the full Moon. - Herrlich!, whispers someone. For Wednesday, we drive until Balea Lake, at about 2.000 meters high. From here we start the march towards the crest. On the crest is the Capra (Goat) Lake. Two of our comrades are taking a short icy bath. The sun shines, that encreases the enthusiasm of the Germans; it's the first time that they are climbing on such heights. In the afternoon we descend and visit the town 'Victoria Comunismului' (now just Victoria, it is a churchless dormitory town set up by the Communists for the slave workers in a chemical plant hidden inside the mountains). Our comrades can understand these things easily because they are comming from former East Germany and thus they know very well what Communist oppression means. Almost seven years after the fall of Ceausescu and in this town nothing has changed, you feel like getting out of time (back in the USSR). We get back in the nature on the Vistea Valley, passing among isolated small farms. One farmer tells us about the guerrilla warriors of the heights which were in permanent touch with the isolated farmers who provided them food supplies, intelligence and everything they needed. That's the secret of a so long resistance until 1957. We eat in the tent because outside the rain has started. We hope that tomorrow God will give us a nice weather. Before sleeping, I tell them about the guerrillas, their actions, their victories over the Securitate forces, the treasons, the dead, the grief of the prisons and the Romanian Gulag. We are discovering common elements of both our national struggle against the Russian Communist invader, and also essential different elements. After the rain stops we get to sleep. Tomorrow it will be a tough day. Thursday, August 1st, 6 am. The grass is still wet after the rain, but the sky is clear. We take with us just some necessary things in a bag and start marching to reach the Moldoveanu Pick - the highest pick in Romania: 2.543 meters. The path is climbing through the woods for about two hours, among chains of waterfalls and on improvized bridges over the creeks. When we get out of the forest, a true army of shepherds' dogs is welcoming us. For some hundreds of meters, they are leading us to the small mountain farm. Before our eyes is opening a huge valley and a rocky wall, almost vertical, of about 500 meters high. Soon we loose the path. So we decide to climb straight on the wall. We hear far voices, of two shepherds away on the left, but we do not understand them. We continue our climbing, with more and more often breaks. On a rock, we unpack the last food supplies and we see that the cheese bought from Victoria is rotten. We comradelly share the last slices of salami along with a few tomatoes and we resume the climbing. It is before 11 am. No food, no water for the rest of the day. After a tough climbing, we finally reach the crest. Here it is raining with hail. The greatness of the Transylvanian Alps impresses so much the Germans that they have already forgotten every fatigue. From South, over a valley, foggy clouds are advancing towards us. We can see the Moldoveanu Pick amongst the clouds. After a short rest we resume our march, what was worst has passed. Now, we are on the top. The Iron Cross, with the Iron Guard on it, raised here on the pick two years ago by two young Transylvanian Romanian nationalists, has disappeared. I remember the stupid dialogues of the politicians and secret police officers (SRI) in Bucharest, in the fall of '94, about the installation of a Legionary Cross (that which is now missing) on the highest top mountain of Romania. I tell the Germans about the Cross and the reactions of the democrats on it. Still highly impressed by the landscape, our comrades are telling me that the Legionaries should have been very special people, because they have succeeded to face the Securitate forces for more than a decade in such conditions. After a while, the rain starts again and forces us to return. We easily discover the path on which we ought to come, much more appropriate than the wall we have climbed before. Near the valley, we meet the two shepherds who were shouting at us trying to show us the right path. In the evening, happy and wet, we reach the car. None of us hasn't complained of anything. We drive to Fagaras, where we eat, and then to Brasov, where we sleep in my house. On Friday, our comrades - conquered by the expired myth of Dracula - are wishing to see the castle of Bran, near Brasov. At the gate of the museum, one policeman couldn't stop himself the question: - Hey, Mister, where are from these guys so determined, all dressed in white shirts with ties? After visiting the castle, we head for Timisoara, the last objective of our trip. Passing again through Fagaras, we stop to meet Mr. Eugen Ratiu - the brother of Commander Horia Sima - the successor of the Captain Corneliu Codreanu at the command of the Legion. Mr. Eugen invites us in the house. Then he starts a very tough criticism regarding the past policy of the German Reich towards Romania, when Adolf Hitler did not collaborated on friendly terms with the Legionary Movement and neither with other nationalist movement from Europe. The chance for the definitive destruction of Communism, according to Mr. Eugen, was then unique. I can notice on their faces that they are not excessivelly pleased by the strong conclusions reached by the brother of Commander Horia Sima, but our young German comrades would appreciate, finally, the sincerity and determination of this very special man. The way to Timisoara is long and hard. All the time of their staying in Romania, our German comrades weared white shirts and black ties. They have told us that in Germany wearing any kind of uniform is forbidden and you can get in jail for such a thing. If one third of the persons at a meeting are dressed the same way, these people would be arrested and imprisoned. Also in uniform are considered even two persons dressed the same way who are sitting at a table in a restaurant, for example. Of course, the phones are tracked and any nationalist, not just act, but thought is registered and convicted. After visiting Timisoara and the Publishing House of GV, we are leading our guests to the Hungarian border. The farewell is sincere. Everyone is sorry that the trip has come to the end, but everyone is happy that we succeeded to establish the beginning of a comradeship link, over the passed treasons of the '40s. We all hope that the new thin link will help the Christian humility seed to flourish also in Germany - thinking that it was the only element missing from the glorious Third Reich's equation of the victory. by Grigore OPRITA GVE-letter, August 14, 1996