The Flowers of World War II
The films and still pictures of the horrors of
World WarII haunt and torture many of us;
for those who are
unaffected by them, I have serious doubts about their
supposed innate ability to feel. How can any of us, even
those born way after the end of that period of
indescribable horror, be not moved by what those films
show us?
And I wonder, how can we possibly give any
consideration to or participate in any kind of war at all,
after viewing those scenes? I don’t know. Honestly, I
don’t get it. What I do know is that we just continue to
war. Perhaps it is a genetic malfunction we earth
humans have. But not to worry--one day, I hope not
soon, we shall end all wars for good and ever. One day
we will blow ourselves up with such a savage and
self-serving ferocity that we and our planet will be but
simple pebbles, small meteorites floating about in space,
landing on some other wandering star inhabited by
perhaps more reasonable beings than we. The pieces of
us will be picked up and examined by their scientists and
placed in museums to sit still forever, and grow a mantle
of grey dust.
I am certainly affected by films of World War II.
Perhaps because I have memories of that time. In 1942
when the USA officially joined the cause, I was four
years old and I remember that period of time vividly.
But of course I was a child and couldn’t really
understand and wasn’t emotionally much affected by
that war. Life for me was fine and while I heard
conversations about the war, and saw men coming home
who had sustained hideous wounds, (including a relative
and a couple of neighbors) and heard about the men and
women who never came home, wounded or not, I was a
child and thought nothing much about it. It was just so
there, so much a part of every day life, that it was
every day life and as such not un-ordinary. And of
course, the war wasn’t anywhere near my neighborhood
and I was assured it never would be, so life just went
on, and I, like all small children, lived and played in
blissful ignorance. And like all children have since the
dawn of all dawns, and as all children always will
irrespective of their parents’ insisting they do and will
not, we played war games.
I am more affected by World War II now than I was
when I was a child because of those films and pictures. I
can relate to them now. When I see the pictures of what
happened to the six million (and of course there were far
more than six million) my heart begins to race and I
can’t breathe very well for a few moments, and I will
say here that there has to be a special place in hell for
those ignoramuses who say "it did not happen."
Pictures and films have had immeasurable impact on our
lives and it obviously was this kind of media that made
us all realize what war actually is; not noble, not
glorious, and not romantic. It is blood and filth, disease
and horrifying wounds, and it is a gruesome dying before
one’s time; it is the very worst of humanity. Back before
we could see pictures of the horror of it all, I think
perhaps we were filled with a bursting patriotism that
made us want to get out and over there and fight the
good fight. And then photography happened and we
began to think a little more about war, about going off to
fight. And then films, and we thought even harder, but
still, we went.
But I think when Viet Nam exploded into our lives and
we began to see the abomination of it all, the atrocities in
living color on the six PM news, it was then that often
thinking people, not cowards all, not non-patriots all,
began to say NO, they would not go there and do that,
and so they left America in droves. It was the pictures
that made them do it, made them understand. It was the
films, television. There was no marching off to glory in
that war; for the ones who knew but went anyway, there
was no return to glory either. They fought over there,
and when they came back home to America, they would
have to fight another sort of war over here also.
And so it was the films that told us everything about
war, just as they do today. But films also raised many
questions for us too. And certain films haunt me.
Actually many, but it was the same theme that I always
found so disquieting when I saw them. It was the
flowers of World War II. The scenes of people in huge
masses handing bouquets of flowers to their vindicators
or even their captors. Ragged, war-weary people in
overcoats, and hats. No leaves could be seen on the
background trees, indicating to the viewer that it was
cold then, when flowers could not grow. These people
congregated in cities often ripped and shredded by war,
as their lives now were. They had no homes, little food,
nothing. But they had flowers to hand off to, or spread
before, the powerful people who were destroying or
saving them as the case may be.
Did they have greenhouses that somehow missed being
bombed? Were there florists throughout Europe whose
businesses missed the conflagrations? Does anybody
know? Can anyone tell me where those flowers came
from in World War II?
Copyright © LC Van Savage, 1996-2000
