Book Reviews: Gruesome Harvest by Ralph Franklin Keeling
|5 stars, 2 reviews|
Author: Ralph Franklin Keeling
Publisher: Liberty Bell Publications
Brand: Brand: Liberty Bell Publications
Finally the TruthI was born 1941 in Berlin, Germany. My family moved to Toronto in Canada in 1966, away from the Iron Curtain and its inherent danger.
My memories of the war are not very vivid other than the scare that a friend of mine gave me by making me go too close to a bomb crater to scare me, but my memories of the years after the war are very clear. We children thought it was normal to be hungry, to collect nuts, berries and mushrooms in the woods. When school started we had what was called Schulspeisung (being given lunch at school) this consiste often enough of one teaspoon full of peanuts or a single stick of chewing gum.
This book finally exposes the hypocritical attitude of the world press which to this day is nothing but re-copying of wartime propaganda.
As a school child I already wonfered why it is OK to be a proud Frenchman, a proud Englishman etc, but not OK to be a proud German.
Now I have at least some information that will allow me to discuss rationally my Patriotism for Germany and the reason that I never surrendered my Nationality, I am still and will remain a Proud German.
The TruthI was born 1940 in Wiesbaden Germany, thus having lived through the war and its aftermath in Germany. My family and I emigrated to Canada in 1956. I have vivid memories of the war itself and the post war period. I can state here with all sincerity, that every word in this book is true. I am astounded, that this book has existed since 1947. Mr Keeling must have been a man of extraordinary courage and integrity to have written this at that time. We were made to feel ashamed of our heritage and all efforts were made to brainwash us children relentlessly to detest our own home land. We were swamped with the images of German beastliness. Mean while it was clear that we weren't meant to eat. We gathered nuts, dandy lyon and stinging nettles and such to give us the illusion of eating. I remember my grandmother saying to my mother, walking behind my brother "Just look at those two little worms they got legs like sticks with the wood scraped off!" and burst into tears. My late younger brother was born in August '45. Within months that poor baby contracted typhus and almost died, then he fell ill with TB and was taken away to a sanatorium for two years. When he came home he called my mother 'Auntie'. That almost broke her heart. People tore the floors and door frames out of their dwellings to burn for heat in little 'Kanonenofen' (Cannon stoves). The only way to survive was to deal on the black market. In the last days of the war we were bombed out completely. All we had saved were some oriental rugs and some china. These valuable rugs were traded off for pennies on the dollar for food. I remember my mother bringing home some red tinted grease that a kitchen helper had skimmed off tomato soup in the kitchen of the American canteen. We spread it on our black rye bread, being thankful for the fat. The closest I can see right now are the conditions in Haiti since the earthquake. Those were truly terrible times!
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