fidgets, and circles in a vicious circle, only to subside, stop, mix, and form a festering open wound once again. And your lips automatically start to form a scream for help, for rescue.
S.O.S.! S.O.S.! S.O.S.! S.O.S.!!!!!!!!!!!
Help! Help! Help! HELP!! HELP!!!
Animals! Damn this!
November 1939–
August 1941 Homo sum, nihil humani a me alienum puto.30 It is a lie. Human feelings are already alien to me. Love is alien. Mercy is alien. My heart jumps for joy at the sight of an obituary: “der fünfter und letzter Sohne gefallen für Vaterland.”31
The obituary of the first son even said: “für Führer und Vaterland. In stolzen Trauer—Mutter.”32
Quite moving. No? I am going to cry. What? If I could, I would give you more than one chance to show your mercy. I would give you not ten, not one hundred, and not one thousand, but millions of mothers signing their sons’ obituaries with the words “in stolzen Trauer.” I would multiply her sons. I would give her not seven, but seventy sons. But I would let her live. Perfectly calm, I would single-handedly shoot or slaughter thousands of people: young people, sons, husbands, brothers, fathers fighting für Führer und Vaterland. After work I would go à la recherche du temps perdu33 for their slaughter and for a glass of wine.
8 October 1942
ARG I 471 (Ring. I/489).
Description: original (handwritten, notebook, ink, 152x195 mm), duplicate (two copies), handwritten, pencil, Polish, 150x208 mm, 90 sheets, 89 pages.
Edition based on the original 28 sheets, 28 pages.
