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Background: This material comes from an
unusual Nazi book that provided humorous stories of the Kampfzeit,
the period from 1919-1933 when the Nazis struggled for power. Many
of the stories involve beating up political opponents. Others provide
insight into Nazi methods of propaganda. I here translate one full chapter
and parts of a second. The autbor of this book presents it as a kind of
“oral history.” His preface notes that as old Nazis die, their
stories will be forgotten unless they are written down.
The source: Karl Springer, Auf geht’s! Humor aus der Kampfzeit
der nationalsozialistischen Bewegung (Munich: Zentralverlag der NSDAP.,
1939).
Onward! Humor from the
Period of Struggle of the National
Socialist Movement
Isidor and the Sprit of Nuremberg
The party members from Rosenheim were still filled with their wonderful
experiences at the 1923 German Rally in Nuremberg [a
major right-wing gathering]. Shortly before their train left
Nuremberg, they burst out with spontaneous enthusiasm into the National
Anthem.
The Jew Isidor Big-Stink-Bomb — with his sunken, blurry eyes and
double chin he was the very image of his race — looked out his compartment
window with every sign of hateful displeasure. The instincts of his nomadic
people, which recognizes no fatherland, aroused his fury against this
flood of patriotic enthusiasm.
“Germany, Germany above all what does that mean?” he grunted.
“It’s all nonsense!”
Filled with devilish hatred, his contorted face spat toward the singing
S.A. men beneath him, just missing Hauser-Toni and Kuchler-Ludwig.
Both were made speechless for a moment by this tremendous rudeness. Still,
an old Nazi never takes too long to solve the important questions of the
day, so Hauser-Toni lifted Kuchler up to the train window and then climbed
up after him.
With a quick glance, the two noble souls agreed on what to do.
First, the genuine Bavarian chap made sure that the Jew would not be
able to spit for the remainder of the action. Given the physical roundness
of the Hebrew, a ball game then began, following precise rules. It does
not need to be said that Big-Stink-Bomb took the role of the ball as the
game proceeded down the train’s corridor. He did attempt to come
up with a few weak excuses as he found himself unexpectedly facing the
Hun from Upper Bavaria.
But the task of a ball is not to talk, but to fly through the air. Toni
gave him a powerful kick on the rump, sending him toward Kuchler-Ludwig
at a speed of 129 kilometers an hour. He sent him another half dozen meters
down the corridor in the same manner, where Toni, who had hurried along
ahead of him, took his turn. Then it was Kuchler’s turn again. This
pleasant alternation continued until the Yid had rolled through three
express cars.
His howling kept those on the platform aware of his progress. They had
been talking about the Jew’s disgraceful behavior. They needed only
hold out their arms as Hauser and Kuchler gave into their forceful demands
to have the Hebrew sent their way.
Modern psychology speaks often of the “spirit of the area,”
by which they mean all the intellectual and spiritual factors that hang
over or characterize a city. If this theory is true, Nuremberg must have
been filled with a particularly active variety of anti-Semitism in 1923,
as the blows fell like hail on Isidor Big-Stink-Bomb’s back.
He fortunately had no inkling abut the psychological source of the blows
to his ribs, else the spirit of Nuremberg would have had to endure the
full curses of the Talmud, though it must be noted that any non-Jew who
had behaved in a similar way would have gotten the same treatment.
Still, it was a wonderful sight to see the crumpled Isidor with his wobbling
bowed legs fleeing in the direction of the railway police. In his confusion
his tongue was unable to keep up with his hands, and only after a lot
of shouting was he able to say that his painful condition had been caused
by two men in Lederhosen.
But they were nowhere to be found. As the police walked along the platform
with the Jew looking for the culprits, motivated more by duty than enthusiasm,
Hauser-Toni and Kuchler-Ludwig, now wearing jackets and caps, looked out
the window with disinterested boredom. Even their closest relatives would
not have recognized them in this garb.
Shrugging their shoulders, the police told Isidor that they could not
do anything if he could not more precisely describe the culprits, and
headed back to their station.
The Jew shouted after them. But following after them with flapping coattails
did no good. All that happened was that he was twenty meters away when
his train began huffing and puffing to leave the station.
The desperate man began shouting: “My God, this is terrible!”,
he howled. “Conductor, stop the train! My deal will fall apart if
I get there late.”
Since neither the conductor nor anyone else was willing to change the
timetable for his benefit, he was left alone in his misery.
It is hard to describe the conflict between his unsatisfied desire for
revenge and his promising deal that raged within him. Outwardly it was
evidenced by Big-Stink-Bomb’s hops toward the vanishing police, then
his attempts to run after the departing train. Both were as ridiculous
as they were hopeless.
The bystanders watched for a long time as he waved his arms around like
a windmill on the platform until he was swallowed by smoke and darkness,
a picture of the end of Ahasaver [the legendary
Wandering Jew], who perished due to his own evil.
[pp. 43-46]
How our Speakers Fought
1. Marx’s Six Books
One of the movement’s oldest speakers, who has since made a name
for himself as a political figure, was speaking on the topic “Marxism
as a Danger to the Nation.” His deep knowledge of the union question
enabled him to immediately win the attention of the numerous Social Democrats
in the hall. Almost raptly, they followed his logical argument, and when
he had finished their confidence in their former ideals had been deeply
shaken.
A Marxist bigwig felt called to prevent a mass defection of his supporters
from the Social Democratic camp. He attempted to conceal his lack of factual
arguments by hypocritical attacks against National Socialism. He probably
thought he has shredded the previous speaker.
He was surprised as the Nazi speaker stood up without the least hint
of excitement and calmly began:
“The ridiculous remarks of the discussion speaker astound one due
to their lack of positive knowledge. It almost sounds as if he is not
entirely sure of his own worldview. I would like to ask him an honest
question: Has he carefully and conscientiously read the six books by the
Marxist prophet Karl Marx?”
A loud and clear “Yes!” was the answer.
The question was repeated, and again there was a firm “Yes!”
The National Socialist smiled slightly as he asked for a third time:
“I ask the discussion speaker yet again, in the presence of his
comrades: Have you really read all six books that Karl Marx wrote, without
missing one of them or skipping a chapter?”
The Marxist bigwig, clearly proud of his wisdom, said: “Yes, every
one without exception!”
“Then you are the biggest liar and fool I have ever met,” the
questioner continued. “How can you have read six books by Karl Marx
when he actually only wrote three?! You claim to be a Marxist leader,
but you don’t even know that! You betray and deceive German workers!”
It didn’t take much more to lead the Social Democrats down the right
way. The bigwig was probably happy that his own people didn’t beat
him to a bloody pulp that same night.
2. Is the Holy Spirit a Jew?
The political pastor was beside himself. Wiping the sweat from his brow,
he gave full vent to his normally repressed soul.
True, the previous Nazi speaker had been unreasonable in his attacks
on the beloved Bavarian People’s Party [a
Catholic Party]. Using papal encyclias, he had proven that
the Holy Father himself had absolutely prohibited Catholic priests from
misusing religion for political purposes. That was too much!
The man must be stopped, he must be shown to be a heretic. Let the aroused
farmers (lacking the Inquisition and stake) drown him in a manure pit
and heap pitch and sulfur on top of him!
After the break, the political pastor strode up to the platform and began
his crusade against the Nazi plague.
With an elegance one had not expected given his fat body, he ignored
all the sins of his “Bavarian People’s Party” and its imprisoned
brothers and tried to prove the anti-Christian sentiments of the Nazis
in general and the speaker in particular. The Jewish Question was his
culmination. He cited every possible Bible verse, omitting only the ones
in which Christ himself condemned Jewry, and then finished with his most
powerful blow.
With an oily voice that could have covered a ton of sardines, he shouted
emotionally to the crowd:
“…and there is another reason why I cannot understand the
National Socialist hatred of the Jews. We all know that the Savior was
descended from the Jews and that Christ himself therefore was a Jew.
If we are to be Christians, we must bow before the Jews, not fight them
as the National Socialists do in such an unchristian way!”
The pastor probably expected howls of outrage from the speaker, but they
did not come. And the farmers gave no sign of wanting to tear the speaker
to bits. They were waiting eagerly for his response.
“Well, the pastor wants us to believe that Christ was a Jew. But
we are good Christians who paid attention to what we were taught.
We learned that Christ was God’s son, not the son of some Hebrew.
Besides that, the Catholic Church teaches that Holy Mary, the mother of
Christ, died a virgin. That means she never had sexual relations with
a man, certainly not with a flat-footed garlic Jew. And thirdly, according
to Catholic doctrine, Christ was born by a miracle, not by the normal
natural process. Finally, the church teaches that ‘Holy Spirit came upon’
the Virgin Mary. He must, therefore, be regarded as the father or source
of Christ. Surely not even the pastor wants to tell us that the Holy Spirit
is a Jew!”
His argument resulted in explosive laughter. Defeated on his own ground,
the red-faced ultramontane Jew-lover had no choice but to disappear as
fast as possible. Only later did he remember that he had left his hat
and coat behind.
Naturally the manure pit, sulfur, and pitch remained a pious dream.
[pp. 106-110]
[Page copyright © 2002 by Randall L. Bytwerk.
No unauthorized reproduction. My e-mail address is available on the FAQ
page.]
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