[The following is taken from a memoir of Irmgard A. Hunt, who grew up in the mountains under Hitler’s Eagles Nest during the Second World War. In particular, the following demonstrates the hardships of living under the weight of food rations during the later years of the war.]
I wondered if Mutti [German: Mom] would also write to Tante [German: Aunt] Emma about the day I ate half a loaf of bread that I had waited in line for as I walked home. When I realized what I had done, cold terror seized me; I expected a mighty thrashing and eternal shame. Mutti would never believe that the mere smell of bread, not sheer selfish greed, had seduced me to rip the crust and tear the soft inside apart with my fingers little piece by little piece – each time thinking, Now I’ll stop – until I had eaten everyone’s three-day ration. Better get it over with, I thought as I opened our door. I pushed the half-collapsed brown bag across the table to Mutti and waited.
She understood at once, thought for a moment with a sad look on her face, and then said, “You must have been very hungry.” I nodded and cried with relief.
Source:
Hunt, Irmgard A. “Hardship and Disintegration.” On Hitler’s Mountain: Overcoming the Legacy of a Nazi Childhood. New York: Harper Collins Publishers, 2005. 169. Print.
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