Kathleen Greer | Transnational History of World War II

Coming to Terms with the Past: An American German Student in Berlin

June 7, 2018 at 12:42amJune 7, 2018 by Kathleen Greer

At the Reichstag Building.

Kate Greer

History and German, Class of 2020

I started learning German when I was twelve years old, and when I was sixteen, I decided I wanted to study the language for the rest of my life. Sincerely learning a language, however, means learning another culture and history as well, and while every country has its attributes it would rather forget, Germany’s struggle to come to terms with its past has always been prominent for me.

I traveled to Germany for the first time in 2014 to attend school as an American exchange student. Before my first day, my host sister was careful to explain to me that I shouldn’t talk about World War II unless it was brought up in history class. I was also not to stick my index finger under my nose in reference to a moustache, because it reminded people of Hitler. Even saying the word “Jewish” made people feel uncomfortable. I fell in love with other parts of German culture as the weeks rolled on, such as efficient public transportation, universal appreciation for art, and determination to care for the environment. But no matter how many delicious German meals I ate or World Cup games the German soccer team won, I continued to notice the inherited guilt that overcame my German friends whenever a darker part of their history was brought up. Back in America, I got serious about German Studies, and I read more and more about the anti-Semitism fostered in German culture, art, and media during the early 20th century. I discovered that Hitler did not begin anti-Semitism in Germany; he simply encouraged people to act on their deeply-rooted beliefs. I learned about the Holocaust from the perspective of the German people during and after the war, when they realized what had happened. I began to understand what the culture I had fallen in love with had, at one time, been capable of.

Walking along a remaining portion of the Berlin Wall.

Even though I have been studying German language and culture for eight years, I had never been to Berlin until this year. I had read books, watched movies, seen photos, and done projects all about Berlin, but actually traveling to the German capital city, as an American German student, was one of the most profound experiences I had on this trip. Although Berlin played an important role in many historical periods, our group was there to learn about World War II through German eyes, so we went to sites such as the German Historical Museum, the German Resistance Memorial Center, the Topography of Terror, the Wannsee House, the Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe, the German-Russian Museum, and Cecilienhof Palace to get a better idea of this.

Experiencing the sobering Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe.

All of these museums laid out the events of the war as they occurred, explaining Hitler’s ascent to power, the German takeover of Europe, and the Holocaust. In the German Historical Museum, the Jewish people were given their own section of an exhibit with the same sculpture of a crematorium full of murdered people that we saw at Auschwitz. In the German Resistance Memorial Center, one placard informed guests that the members of the resistance movements were the vast minority of citizens at the time; almost all other Germans were okay with Hitler’s accumulation of limitless power. The Topography of Terror also detailed ways in which Germans would terrorize each other in a struggle to stay on top in the Third Reich. Although these recollections didn’t seem to answer why almost everyone in Germany supported the Nazis or why they stood by while their Jewish comrades were murdered, they did demonstrate honesty in the narrative of their country’s brutal history, which wasn’t always the case in France or Poland.

A building full of bullet holes from the Battle of Berlin.

As an American German student, I am proud of my second home country for being determined to tell their nation’s history, no matter how difficult and shameful it is. As an American history student, I can see that they still have a long way to go in accepting the magnitude of support for policies and ideologies that almost wiped out an entire race of people. And as an American, I hope that my country can follow in Germany’s footsteps and improve the way we present our history, which is also full of bloody war, discrimination, and genocide. Coming to terms with the past and vowing to never repeat the terrible mistakes of our ancestors is a long process, but I hope that America and Germany, two countries that I love, can brave that journey towards honesty, understanding, and healing together.

Our tour guide explains the Reichtag’s decision to keep some Soviet writing on the building’s walls.

Contemporary Krakow: The War’s Legacy Through Polish Eyes

June 6, 2018 at 11:31pm by Kathleen Greer

The Nazis created a narrative that Krakow was an ancient Germanic city.

Kate Greer

History and German, Class of 2020

In Poland, it is illegal to speak about the Holocaust with any implications that the “Polish nation” was complicit in the genocide of European Jews and other minorities. When our class first read about this new law at the beginning of spring semester, we joked that we would all definitely be arrested in Poland just for talking about the material we were going there to learn. None of us, however, truly realized the monstrous and deeply tragic shape the Second World War took in Poland until we read Neighbors: The Destruction of the Jewish Community in Jedwabne, Poland. In this book, historian Jan T. Gross tells the harrowing story of a Polish town that systematically murdered its Jewish inhabitants in 1941. Through our class discussions about Neighbors and other Holocaust readings, we learned that anti-Semitism was not imported to Poland when the Germans invaded; it had been deeply rooted in Polish culture and belief for decades, and Hitler’s rhetoric simply empowered people to act on their prejudice. Everyone on the World War II trip knew we were going to Poland to see remnants of some of the worst oppression humans have ever inflicted on other humans, but none of us knew how these crimes manifested themselves in modern Polish society, especially with the new Holocaust law in place.

Listening to a site report about Poland under the occupation.

Krakow definitely surprised me for many reasons. For one, I expected the city to display much more of a Soviet influence than it did. I didn’t realize how well preserved the medieval architecture was, mostly spared by the Nazis, who believed it to be an ancient Germanic city. I also was pleasantly surprised by how well the Poles spoke English. In Krakow, I encountered a young, vibrant population who are still helping their newly democratic nation develop its national identity. Reminders of the war’s legacy were not visible throughout the city though, as they were in London and Bayeux; we had to truly seek out local perspectives in order to understand how World War II lives in Polish national memory today.

At both Auschwitz-Birkenau and the Oskar Schindler Factory, our group followed a young Polish tour guide who helped us better understand her nation’s view of the war. On the bus drive to Auschwitz, she very clearly articulated to us that the camp was a “Nazi concentration camp,” rather than a “Polish concentration camp.” During her tours, she also focused on the Poles as a group that was oppressed by the Nazis. In Auschwitz, she was careful to point out a place where a Polish Catholic priest sacrificed his life to save a Jewish stranger and told this story in detail. Her interpretation of events, combined with the passage of this new law, communicated to me that the Poles feel that they were victims too during World War II, and they want to find ways to draw national pride from this dark period of their history, instead of shame.

The medieval city center, spared from Nazi destruction.

Our tour guide also carefully instructed us on how to best be respectful of the places we were visiting. In Auschwitz, the group witnessed some truly insensitive and disgusting behavior from tourists, who were taking selfies and chatting loudly in spaces where terrible things happened. The Polish guides, however, were very serious about reflection and education in the concentration camp, and I noticed that, even though they lived close to the camp and had visited it many times, the torture, enslavement, and execution still deeply affected them.

Today, in Poland, the people still understand the atrocities that many committed on their soil, as they viciously sought the eradication of specific groups of people. Where the Poles fail to bring honesty to their national narrative, however, is exactly what the new Holocaust law addresses. After decades of tyrannical occupation under the Germans and Soviets, the country would much rather move on and rediscover their national pride than come to terms with their complicity in the violence of the past. Although modern, exciting Poland surprised me with its thriving culture, impressive architecture, and friendly citizens, there is still that dark history lingering underneath the surface, and time will only tell whether the Poles admit to their wrongdoings, like those uncovered in Neighbors, or continue with a streak of denial that risks repetition of history’s worst.

From Normandy to Paris: Reflections on French War Sites as Historical Sources

May 31, 2018 at 12:30am by Kathleen Greer

Kate Greer

History and German, Class of 2020

Viewing the remnants of Port Winston in Arromanches, France.

The World War II sites that we visited in France hold massive significance in themselves in the events of the war. For this reason, they served as valuable historical sources that advanced our understanding of the war’s legacy Europe in multiple realms, such as loss of life, military advances, and France under occupation. One of Normandy’s biggest tourism draws as a region is the vital role it played in World War II. Our first place of residence was Bayeux, a quaint town equidistant from most war sites with narrow cobblestone roads, friendly inhabitants, and a beautiful ornate cathedral. By day, the little city was alive with visitors much like ourselves – on World War II pilgrimages.

Downtown Bayeux.

Each day, our team ventured out to the numerous sites along the coast and interior that played important parts in the Battle of Normandy. Among these locations were the Caen Memorial Museum, St. Mere-Eglise, Utah and Omaha Beaches, Pointe du Hoc, Arromanches, and the American, British, and German cemeteries. As in London, members of our group presented site reports, which definitely augmented the profound effects that standing in these places created for students who have been studying the Second World War since the beginning of January.

Paying tribute to the Buckeye 12 in the American Cemetary in Normandy.

It’s very easy to become desensitized to loss while sitting in a classroom, but when we came face to face with the vast cemeteries of Normandy, the thousands of soldiers, young and old, who ran into battle against the enemy were humanized. At these memorials, no one side is held above another; rather, the remembrances mourn all parties and lament violent death in such quantities. As I viewed and reflected on the tributes to both Allied and Axis forces, I gained great insight on their points of view that the lectures in my spring semester couldn’t really depict. Americans, Brits, French, and Germans either believed that what they were fighting for was right, went to war because there were no opportunities at home, or found themselves forced on to the battlefield against their will. Circumstances aside, we paid our respects to them all and memorialized the price they paid so the world might be free.

Dr. Steigerwald speaks to the group on Omaha Beach.

As we traversed the Norman terrain, our readings from General Dwight Eisenhower’s memoir, Crusade in Europe, helped me better understand the enormity and complexity of opening the second front in France. For example, walking next to towering hedgerows, exploring abandoned German defense bunkers, and viewing the rusting remains of Port Winston, the former Mulberry at Arromanches have all helped me visualize the Expeditionary Forces’ ability to solve problems on the go. They found innovative solutions that would efficiently use resources and minimize casualties, whether it was repurposing beach defenses to drill through thick foliage, developing new technology to breach the Atlantic Wall, or creating a temporary floating harbor that can withstand channel storms to unload supplies and bring in reinforcements. Eisenhower effectively described all of these undertakings in his recollections; however, viewing these sites in person has strengthened my comprehension of the logistical speed the Allies mustered to ensure victory.

View of the German Cemetery in Normandy.

After Normandy, we moved forward to Paris, the capital city and bustling heart of France. Paris was not a strategic communication hub for the Nazis or the home base for a collaborationist government. In fact, Eisenhower didn’t even want to bother marching through Paris as the Allies drove east towards the Siegfried Line. Spending three days in the city taught me why Paris was so symbolic to the French people that its liberation from the Germans is considered a triumphant moment in their country’s history. Paris is the summit of French culture, history, and character, and a foreign entity swallowed and humiliated their national identity for nearly five years. As I strolled along the Seine, people-watched in a café, and moseyed through art museums, experiencing the sights and feelings of French-ness for myself, I tried to imagine a constant hostile presence in Paris, infiltrating the culture and stealing neighbors away in the night, as Jean-Paul Sartre described in “Paris Under the Occupation.”

Leaving a note at the Angoville au Plain Church for Dr. Robert Wright, an OSU Alum, who opened a clinic for wounded soldiers on all sides.

As historical sources, Parisian museums and monuments seemed to contradict many of the points we learned about the Fall of France in Dr. Mansoor’s History of World War II lectures this past semester. Dr. Mansoor cited evidence of poor military leadership, stringent doctrines of methodical battle, and social and political tensions throughout the country to explain why France surrendered to the Nazis in June 1940. Other the hand, the French Army Museum argued that France never did fall because the Maginot Line – their immobile armored border protections in Alsace-Lorraine – itself never fell. The wording used in museum exhibits throughout France seemed to ignore that France was at one time defeated and place itself among the victors of the war.

Exploring the tunnels of Pointe du Hoc.

French historical memory and presentation, from what we witnessed, is overwhelmingly focused on World War II as a struggle to defeat the Nazis in their country. Their museums and memorials glorify France, idolize General de Gaulle, and acclaim the Resistance to a point where it became hard to distinguish accurate accounts from patriotic stories. In the end, we each had to make decisions to discard the French interpretation of their own national war experience, or simply accept what was presented to us as history.

Walking along Utah Beach.

Notre Dame Cathedral from the edge of the Seine.

The Eiffel Tower by night.

“Let us go forward together”: the cases for and against the people’s war in England

May 17, 2018 at 2:42pm by Kathleen Greer

Kate Greer

History and German, Class of 2020

At the top of St. Paul’s Cathedral, May 2018.

I had been to London once before, when I was thirteen; I didn’t retain many details about the city. During that first trip, I toured a few places in England with my church choir, performing concerts in various cathedrals and visiting historical sites. It was here that I first considered studying history, and it was here that I started critically considering the ways in which other countries are different from mine. I noticed that England possessed an energy for national pride, tradition, and legacy. When I was 13, I saw this pride through their love of their monarchy and religious significance in collective world history. Now, at age twenty, during my second stay in London, I have noticed the pride that surrounds the national narrative of “The People’s War” during and after World War II.

On the first day, the whole group met in the lobby of our hotel in London. We had seen each other before the start of our study abroad program, when we had all been traveling independently in Dublin (other groups went to Edinburgh and Amsterdam), but it was good to officially assemble in comradeship at last. We spent those first hours in London getting oriented to the Underground, watching a military drill and parade at St. James Park, and finding our way around the bustling metropolis. I observed that the English were very pleased with their national traditions, such as the fanfare of the queensguard, the efficiency of their public transportation, and royal weddings – anticipation of Prince Harry’s marriage to Meghan Markle had the whole country buzzing.

The comrades of the World War II study abroad program gather to hear a site report in St. James Park, London.

Our major World War II sites in England were the Churchill War Rooms, the Royal Air Force Bomber Command Memorial, Bletchley Park, and the Imperial War Museum. Throughout our time in the country, we heard presentations from our classmates at the assorted sites about Winston Churchill’s bunker, the special relationship between the United States and Great Britain during the war, the Blitz, and the Kindertransports of Jewish children from the continent to England. The theme of “The People’s War” was truly visible in all of the sites and reports. The War Rooms and Bletchley Park had separate exhibits that detailed the lives and legacies of icons like Winston Churchill and Alan Turing, but the rest of the museums very much told the story of the hundreds of regular people who took up the call to work towards England’s war effort. They worked impeccably long shifts, sometimes focusing for eighteen straight hours on delivering incoming military reports or intercepting Nazi cyphers to be decoded. The Bomber Command Memorial honored the thousands of civilians who helped protect Britain from the falling bombs during the Blitz. On the second night, we were privileged enough to hear the story of the father-in-law of an Ohio State alum, Mr. Handscomb, who was a grade-school boy at the time of the Blitz. His father volunteered as an air raid warden to protect their neighborhood from the bombs, and Mr. Handscomb accompanied him on many of his missions to clear away rubble, put out fires, and help the newly homeless. It was nothing less than an honor to hear such a personal firsthand account from a man whose family sacrificed and experienced so much so that their country might persevere.

A remembrance at the RAF Bomber Command Memorial.

It seemed that the legacy of England’s role in the Second World War is very much present in every facet of life in London. Plaques across the city commemorate the contributions of regular folks, like people who saved St. Paul’s Cathedral from enemy strikes and people who sheltered treasured works of art from the bombings. On the first night, a couple of other girls and I went to a stand-up comedy show in the upper room of a pub, and the comedienne spent several minutes making jokes about the war and how much she disliked Winston Churchill. She criticized her country’s glorification of his leadership as prime minister and argued that he was a misogynist and alcoholic who verbally abused his employees, and she did it all while amassing terrific laughs from the small audience. It was good to hear a dissenting view of Churchill, because he was definitely placed on a pedestal everywhere else in England. He has a statue in Parliament Square, a memorial smack dab in the middle of Westminster Abbey, pubs with his picture on the wall, and remembrances to him all over town.

Mr. Handscomb speaks to our program about his experiences during The Blitz.

Other critical interpretations question the sensationalizing of the Royal Air Force’s role in World War II. They certainly did do their part to protect their own country from airstrikes; however, Britain launched a brutal and heavily destructive bombing campaign against Germany that sent cities like Hamburg and Dresden up in flames and killed thousands more innocent citizens. Even after the violent suffering of its own people, they did not hesitate to inflict the same devastation on another nation. In addition, Great Britain’s imperialist interests were at the heart of their postwar vision, policies that had kept millions of people in Africa and Asia under oppressive rule for centuries.
While it cannot be denied that the people of England played a crucial role in keeping their nation from falling into enemy hands, their unwavering pride in their country’s victory in World War II frequently ignores the pain they helped exact on other regular people who were dehumanized and considered either enemies or subjects. While Mr. Handscomb’s memories were immensely moving, the stories from Bletchley Park were mind-blowing, and the hundreds of remembrances across London all credited average citizens with their nation’s victory, immersing myself in this English fervor for the “People’s War” has really helped me realize that one must examine and interpret all stories when studying history.

Taking a tour at Bletchley Park.

Firsthand account from a former Bletchley Park employee.

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Author: Kathleen Greer

Coming to Terms with the Past: An American German Student in Berlin

Contemporary Krakow: The War’s Legacy Through Polish Eyes

From Normandy to Paris: Reflections on French War Sites as Historical Sources

“Let us go forward together”: the cases for and against the people’s war in England