Belonging: A German Reckons with History and Home

Willi Rock, Krug’s grandfather, is a nuanced figure who became the primary question in her life. The possibility that her grandfather, a direct relative, may have been a member of the Nazi party haunted her. The ambiguous nature of his past followed her throughout her investigative journey, and she never fully answered the question about his motivation because it was impossible to do so. His military file indicated that Willi was remembered as having hid a Jewish man in his shed to protect him from the Nazis and for keeping his silence in knowing of other Jews in the town. This act of resistance would suggest that he was morally opposed to the regime and its policies, but Krug discovered conflicting evidence about Willi’s past that suggested some of these stories may not have been true. Dates and claims did not align. Willi was a mechanic during the war and trained soldiers to drive. He was a member of the Nazi Party for seven years, a fact he admitted on a questionnaire he was required to fill out after the war. This revelation was shocking for Krug, who was already immersed in inherited guilt. Willi claimed that he joined the party out of necessity so that he could open a driving school in a building used by Robert Wagner, but Krug wondered why he couldn’t have found some other way.

Willi’s self-admitted and, later, officially given title as a Mitläufer, or a follower “lacking courage and moral stance” (189), was painful for Krug to come to terms with because it means that he was cowardly when she wished he could have been brave. This admission highlights the moral ambiguity that Krug grappled with throughout her exploration of her family’s past and the idea of good and evil within all people. Willi’s lack of courage and refusal to take a stand suggests that he may have been more concerned with self-preservation than with the wider issue at hand.

Krug’s feelings toward her grandfather and his actions evolved from doubt and suspicion to warmth and understanding, particularly as she talked to others who shed light on the desperation that many felt during those times. She was able to feel compassion for him, unencumbered by doubt and pain. In the end, she had to accept that she would never know Willi or his thoughts or feelings on the Nazis and his decision to join the party. Despite weeks of journalistic efforts, she had to come to terms with her genetic and emotional connection to people who made harmful decisions.

Franz-Karl, Krug’s father, lived his life in the shadow of his older brother, Franz-Karl, who died during the war at the age of 18. Having to live as the second and apparently less gifted son (according to his mother), Franz-Karl never really experienced a strong sense of belonging. The loss of his brother and the weight of being named after a deceased sibling deeply affected him throughout his life. Franz-Karl had a rocky relationship with his sister and found it extremely difficult to revisit his hometown of Külsheim. The experience of visiting the graveyard in Italy, where his brother is buried, was an important experience for Franz-Karl, who never knew or was even in the same room as his brother. Neither Krug nor her father ever had the chance to know the first Franz-Karl, and both are left with questions that will never be answered.

Franz-Karl’s reluctance to discuss his childhood or his past more broadly is another key aspect of his character. Raised in Külsheim, a town with a controversial history, Franz-Karl experienced an abusive upbringing that shaped his adult life. His mother, who neglected him and allowed others to abuse him, sent him away to a violent boarding school. Franz-Karl was not only dealing with the death of his brother and a neglectful mother but also with growing up in a Germany shaped by war, silence, and shame. When Franz-Karl took her back to Külsheim, he said plainly that he no longer considered it his Heimat. When she walked the same streets and saw the attic where her father lived as a child, she immediately sensed his pain: “I can feel my father’s unhappy childhood creep up through the soles of my feet” (164). Franz-Karl’s reluctance to speak about his past or to revisit his hometown was a way of coping with trauma, but it also emphasizes the difference between him and his daughter. She wanted answers and open discussions, but he wanted to leave the past where it was.