Never trust a Fox

17th April 1938

Marlene's three months pregnant. She blames me for it. "If you weren't at home all the time you wouldn't have knocked me up". She's right. If I were back at the institute I wouldn't have had the time.

Theodore is a little devil sometimes. He's just learned how to tie his shoes and I'm afraid he's already fed up with doing it because he profoundly refuses to take them off. Two nights ago I caught him going to bed in those dirty things! If Marlene wasn't so opposed to spanking him then I would. I cannot wait until he's old enough to go to school he'll finally learn something there!

30th April 1938

Marlene caught me writing. She doesn't agree with me preparing Theodore for the Hitlerjugend, he's got another ten years before he'll join, she argues. But she's wrong.

Franz's way of writing was blatant and direct. He didn't shy away from bringing his thoughts down on the paper.

If I could send him off now I would. You can never start too young. I recently started to read him Trau keinem Fuchs auf grüner Heid* (trust no fox on his green meadow)- he doesn't understand it really, but he likes the rhymes. 

15th September 1938

War is coming. I can smell it. Marlene keeps talking about moving. I think we're safe here. Targets will be industrial cities.

Martin skipped forward, skimming through many pages until he was in the 1940s. Sometimes there were large gaps between the entries he'd made.

11 February 1940

We're going to win. I'm sure of it. It's inevitable. I remember that in my days in the First World War, I could sense the defeat, and I was too afraid to turn my thoughts into ink - afraid to jinx it and make it come true. Today is different we will not lose. I am not afraid to write it.

I have never been more sure of anything in my life.

There it was. The final confirmation that Martin needed. Franz supported Hitler - there was no doubt about it. He sighed and shut the book, running his hand over the surface. There was only one good thing about this: his loyalty was not going to be questioned, so he didn't have to fear the Gestapo. But he'd have to continue playing the part.

***

"Alright, Theodore, Greta, sit down," Martin said. Franz's toddler and son sat down on the bed, cuddling up to him on either side of him. "I'm going to read to you." He picked up the book that Franz had written about in his journal, something about a fox. Greta clapped her hands together but Theodore groaned.

"Do we have to read that book, Papa?"

"Yes." Martin picked it up. As he did his eyes read the entirety of the title for the first time. His heart skipped a beat. It was not just about a fox. The entire title read: Trau keinem Fuchs auf grüner Heid, und keinem Jud bei seinem Eid' (Trust no fox on his green meadow, and no Jew in his oath". Martin almost dropped the book out of shock. He cleared his throat nonetheless and opened the book.

It was a picture book, filled with crude images of ugly and fat Jews, they stood in stark contrast to the handsome Aryan men portrayed. Martin began to read. "As God, the lord, made the world, he came up with the races: Indians, Niggers and Chinese, and Jews those evil creatures." He was taken aback by what was written so plainly in front of him, but after a mere second of hesitation, he continued. "And us, we were also there, the Germans among them! Then he gave us all a piece of land, so it could be built upon with sweat, the Jew didn't participate!" Greta had begun to pinch Theodore's calves, she was bored. Theodore kicked her and raised a finger to his lips. He was trying to set a good example for his younger sister. Franz must have taught him that. "Already, in the beginning, the Devil rode him. He didn't want to work, only to cheat, with the best grade he learned to lie, from the devil quickly and well, and he wrote it in the Talmud, on the banks of the Nile of the Pharao." He closed the book and set it aside. The children stopped fooling around and both looked at him with fear in their eyes. They must think I'm about to scold them, he thought. "Alright children, that's enough of that. I'll tell you a story." Martin coughed, trying desperately to keep his voice light and cheerful.

"Really?" Theodore's eyes opened wide in anticipation. "But you never tell us anything about what you're writing!"

"Well, today I will." He set the book on his nightstand. He promised himself to throw it out later. In no way would he allow those kids to ever read any of those pages again. The book was the most racist thing he'd ever read, and it was a children's book! A bit rattled by the audacity of the picture book, he began to tell them a story. He didn't register or remember what he was telling them, but it involved brave children and magic and treasure chests.