Propaganda NSV, promoting the figure of the Nordic mother as the most important biological weapon of all: birth.
The young peasant remembered the stories that the black-haired merchant from the South had told him. There would be people who avoided the memory of the dead because they were afraid of the dead. Remembering it, Eib shook his head. Why fear the dead when, despite everything, they were still part of the clan? Don’t the ties that unite the generations go back so far that no one knows their origin, and will not continue through future generations in a future from which nobody knows the end? Had not the dead transmitted their patrimony to the living as a sacred legacy to be respected?
The man from the South had spoken of demons and ghosts, of disturbing beings in whose bodies the dead lived, of beings who played a macabre game with men, thinking only of harming them and bringing them misfortune. How much would death have changed the parents who rested under these hills? Incredible, no, impossible: the young peasant answered his own question. He who had been okay in life could not be different in death. Whoever had worked for the welfare and the future of his clan and his people could not, once his ashes are buried in the bosom of the earth, become the enemy of his own race.
It is possible that in the villages of the South, they frightened the living during the lonely nights. The men with black hair were of such a different nature, of such a sombre character; maybe their dead were different from ours.
Notebook of Schutzstaffel (SS) No. 7 of 1938. Solstice.