Before getting to the actual book, I was staggered to learn Helga Schneider's mother, a truly wicked woman and member of the Waffen-SS, served only a six-year prison term for minor war crimes, which, to rub salt into the wounds of the Jews, was reduced down to the fact of complete cooperation with an Allied investigating commission. Six years!, minor crimes?, what went on within the walls of Birkenau can hardly be seen as minor. OK, so she was only a guard, and nowhere near as bad as some of the other monsters who carried out mass killings. But selecting women prisoners for brothels, tearing screaming children away from their mothers, rifle butting, assisting in ghastly experiments, and on the whole, showing absolutely no remorse whatsoever for her role in the final solution looks pretty bad to me. She should have received a far more severe sentence.
So, it's 1998, and after a 30 year wait, in which she discovered her mother's dark past, an older Helga received a letter asking to visit her 90 year-old mother, Traudi, now residing in a nursing home and in poor health. Traudi, during the war, cruelly abandoned her two young children, Helga and Peter, to join the SS, believing totally in the extermination of the Jews. Once the two finally meet, her mother cunningly first denies ever having children, but comes around, and vividly recounts to her daughter the horrors that played out during the time with the SS, and the reasons for walking out on her family. They talk, one in disbelief, the other in stubborn pride. I suppose Helga was looking for some sort of apology after all these years, not just for her children, but all those exterminated. Forget it. Once a Nazi, always a Nazi. She may have been half dead, with a sunken face, poor eyesight, and rancid breath, but this old hag clearly still had SS blood pumping through her knackered veins. She was, quite frankly, despicable. I would have thrown her out the window.
Whilst Helga listened on, Traudi's face would light up when going into details on her disgust for the Jews, she practically blamed them for just about anything and everything. You would think at 90 years-old, a softer side may have emerged, being the final time she would get to see her offspring, but there wasn't much to say about any positives in the outcome. Helga really was torn between hating her mother and feeling sorry for her. Did she find a place in her heart to forgive?, by the end it's difficult to tell.
Although dealing with some powerful themes, for me, the book read far too much like a novel. Her mother was no doubt playing around with her marbles upstairs, and I took pity on how painful this must have been for Helga, but on an emotional level I was left feeling a little empty. It's no doubt carried with a heart rendering premise, but the fact of me reading many other hard hitting books on the Holocaust, this just didn't touch me in the ticker, or punch me in the guts as much.
A decent read, but with mixed results.