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The White Rose

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These resources are all excerpts form the Book The White Rose, by Inge Scholl, the sister of Hans and Sophie Scholl.

Source 1
Source 2
Source 3
Source 4
Source 5
Source 6
Source 7
Source 8
Source 9
Source 10
Source 11
Source 12

Source 1
One morning I heard a girl tell another on the steps of the school, “Now Hitler has taken over the government.” The radio and newspapers promised, “Now there will be better times in Germany. Hitler is at the helm.”
For the first time politics had come into our lives. Hans was fifteen at the time, Sophie was twelve. We heard much oratory about the fatherland, comradeship, unity of the Volk, and love of country. This was impressive, and we listened closely when we heard such talk in school and on the street. For we loved our land dearly—the woods, the river, the old gray stone fences running along the steep slopes between orchards and vineyards. We sniffed the odor of moss, damp earth, and sweet appies whenever we thought of our homeland. Every inch of it was familiar and dear. Our fatherland—what was it but the extended home of all those who shared a language and belonged to one people. We loved it, though we couldn’t say why. After all, up to now we hadn’t talked very much about it. But now these things were being written across the sky in flaming letters. And Hitler—so we heard on all sides— Hitler would help this fatherland to achieve greatness, fortune, and prosperity. He would see to it that everyone had work and bread. He would not rest until every German was mdependent, free, and happy in his fatherland. We found this good, and we were willing to do all we could to contribute to the common effort. But there was something else that drew us with mysterious power and swept us along: the closed ranks of marching youth with banners waving, eyes Iixed straight ahead, keeping time to drumbeat and song. Was not this sense of fellowship overpowering? It is not surprising that all of us, Hans and Sophie and the others, joined the Hitler Youth.

Source 2
We entered into it with body and soul and we could not understand why our father did not approve, why he was not happy and proud. On the contrary, he was quite displeased with us'at times he would say, "Don't belive them - they are wolves and deceivers and they are misusing the German people shamefully". Sometimes he would compare Hitler to the Pied Piper of Hamelin, who with his flute led the children to destruction. But Father's words were spoken to the wind, and his attempts to restrain us were of no avail against our youthful enthusiasm.

Source 3
We went on trips with our comrades in the Hitler Youth and took long hikes through our new land, the Swabian Jura. No matter how long and strenuous a march we made, we were too enthusiastic to admit that we were tired. After all, it was spiendid suddenly to find common interests and allegiances with young people whom we might otherwise not have gotten to know at all. We attended evening gatherings in our various homes, listened to re ings, sang, played games, or worked at handcrafts. T told us that we must dedicate our lives to a great eau We were taken seriously—taken seriously in a remarka way— and that aroused our enthusiasm. We felt we belong to a large, weil-organized body that honored and embraced.everyone, from the ten-year-old to the grown man.
We sensed that there was a role for us in a historic process, in a movement that was transforming the rnasses into a Volk. We believed that whatever bored us or gave us a feeling of distaste would disappear of itself. One night, as we lay und the wide starry sky after a long cycling tour, a friend - a fifteen-year-old girl—said quite suddenly and out of the blue “Everything would be fine, but this thing about the Jews is something I just can’t swallow.”
The troop leader assured us that Hitler knew what he was doing and that for the sake of the greater good we would have to accept certain difficult and incomprehensible things. But the girl was not satisfied with this answer. Others took her side, and suddenly the attitudes in our varying home backgrounds we reflected in the conversation. We spent a restless night in that tent, but afterwards we were just too tired, and the next day was inexpressibly spiendid and filled with new experiences. The conversation of the night before was for the moment forgotten. In our groups there developed a sense of belonging that carried us safely through the difficulties and loneliness of adolescence, or at least gave us that illusion.

Source 4
“But how is it possible that in our country a thing like this could take over the government?”
“In a time of great troubles,” explained Father, “all sorts come to the surface. Just recall the bad times we had to live through: first the war, then the difficult postwar years, infiation, and great poverty. Then came unemployment. 1f a man’s bare existence is undermined and his future is nothing but a gray, impenetrable wall, he will listen to prornises and temptations and not ask who offers them.”
“But after all, Hitler did keep his promise to do away with unemployment.”
“No one denies that. But don’t ask about his methods! He started up the munitions industry, he’s building barracks. Do you know where that will lead? He could have eliminated unemployment by means of peacetime industries—in a dictatorship that can easily be managed. But surely we are not like cattle, satisfied if we have fodder for our bellies. Material security alone will never be enough to make us happy. After all, we’re human beings, with free opinions and our own beliefs. A regime which would tam- per with these things has lost every spark of respect for man. Yet that is the first thing which we must demand from it.”
This talk between Father and ourselves occurred on a long hike in the spring. Once again we had thoroughly talked Out our questions and doubts. “What I want most of all is that you live in uprightness and freedom of spirit, no matter how difficult that proves to be,” he added.

Source 5
We went on trips with our comrades in the Hitler Youth and took long hikes through our new land, the Swabian Jura. No matter how long and strenuous a march we made, we were too enthusiastic to admit that we were tired. After all, it was spiendid suddenly to find common interests and allegiances with young people whom we might otherwise not have gotten to know at all. We attended evening gatherings in our various homes, listened to re ings, sang, played games, or worked at handcrafts. T told us that we must dedicate our lives to a great eau We were taken seriously—taken seriously in a remarka way— and that aroused our enthusiasm. We felt we belong to a large, weil-organized body that honored and embrac .everyone, from the ten-year-old to the grown man.
sensed that there was a role for us in a historie process, i movement that was transforining the rnasses into a Jo We believed that whatever bored us or gave us a feeling distaste would disappear of itself. One night, as we lay und the wide starry sky after a long cycling tour, a friend fifteen-year-old girl—said quite suddenly and out of the blue “Everything would be fine, but this thing about the Jews is something I just can’t swallow.”
The troop leader assured us that Hitler knew what he was doing and that for t sake of the greater good we would have to accept certa difficult and incomprehensihle things. But the girl was n satisfied with this answer. Others took her side, and sw denly the attitudes in our varying home backgrounds we reflected in the conversation. We spent a restless night that tent, but afterwards we were just too tired, and the next day was inexpressibly spiendid and filled with ne experiences. The conversation of the night before was the moment forgotten. In our groups there developed sense of belonging that carried us safely through the difficulties and loneliness of adolescence, or at least gave us th illusion.

Source 6
Hans had learned a repertory of songs, and his troop enjoyed hearing him sing to his own guitar accompaniment. He sang not only the songs of the Hitler Youth but als folksongs of many countries and peoples. What a magic effect the singing of a Russian or Norwegian song coul produce with its gloomy, impelling melancholy. How much it told about these peoples and their lands.
But after a time Hans underwent a remarkable change; he became a different person. Some disturbing element had entered his being. This had nothing to do with Father’s objections; he was able to close his ears to those. It was something else. The leaders had told him that his songs were not allowed, and when he made light of this prohibition, they threatened punishment. Why should he be for- bidden to sing these songs that were so full of beauty? Merely because they had been created by other races? He could see no sense in it; he was depressed, and his light hearted manner disappeared.

Source 7
At this time lie was honored with a very special assignment. He was chosen to be the flagbearer when his troop attended the Party Rally in Nuremberg. His joy was great. But when he returned, we could not believe our eyes. He looked tired and showed signs of a great disappointment. We did not expect any explanation from him, but gradually we found out that the image and model of the Hitler Youth which had been impressed upon him there was totally different from his own ideal. The official view demanded discipline and conformity down to the last detail, inciuding personal life, while he would have wanted every boy to follow his own bent and give free play to his talents. The individual should enrich the life of the group with his own contribution of imagination and ideas. In Nuremberg, however, everything was directed according to a set pattern. Day and night the talk was about Treue—loyalty. But what was the foundation of Treue, after all, but being true to oneself? Rebellion was stirring in Hans’s mind.

Source 8
Soon afterward a new prohibition upset him. One of the leaders snatched out of his hands a book by his favorite author, Sternstunden der Meschheit by Stefan Zweig. It was banned, he was told. But why? There was no answer. A similar judgment was pronounced against another German author whom Hans liked very much.This man had had to flee Germany because he had defended the idea of peace.

Source 9
Finally the open break came. Some time before, Hans had been promoted to the rank of Fahnleinführer— troop leader. He and his boys had sewn a handsome banner, bearing in its design a great mythical beast. This flag was something special; it was dedicated to the Führer, and the boys had pledged their loyalty to the banner because it was the symbol of their fellowship. One evening, however, when they had come into formation with their banner and stood in review before a higher-echelon leader, the unheard-of happened. The leader suddenly and without warning ordered the little flagbearer, a cheerful twelve-year-old, to hand over the banner.
“You don’t need a banner of your own. Use the one prescribed for everyone.”
Hans was deeply disturbed. Since when this rule? Didn't the cadre leader know what this particular flag meant to the troop? After all, it was not just another piece of cloth that could be changed at will.
The order to hand over the banner was repeated. The boy stood rigid, and Hans knew how he feit and that he would refuse. When the order was given for the third time, in a threatening voice, Hans noticed that the flag was trembling. At that he lost control. He quietly stepped from his place in the ranks and slapped the cadre leader.
That put an end to Hans’ career as Fühnleinführer.

Source 10
The spark of tormenting doubt which was kindled in Hans spread to the rest of us.
In those days we heard a story about a young teacher who had unaccountably disappeared. He had been ordered to stand before an SA squad, and each man was ordered to pass by the teacher and to spit in his face. After that incident no one saw him him again. He had disappeared into a concentration camp. “What did he do?” we asked his mother in bewilderment. “Nothing. Nothing,” she cried out in despair. “He just wasn’t a Nazi, it was impossible for him to belong. That was his crime.”

Source 11
Oh God, at that the doubts which had arisen soon turned to deep sadness and then burst into a flame of rebellion. Within us the world of purity and faith was crumbling, bit by bit. What was reaily happening to our fatherland? No freedom, no flourishing life, no prosperity or happiness for anyone who lived in it. Gradually one bond after another was clamped around Germany, until finaily all were imprisoned in a great dungeon.
“Father, what is a concentration camp?”
He told us what he knew and suspected and added:
“That is war. War in the midst of peace and within our own people. War against the defenseless individual. War against human happiness and the freedom of its children. It is a frightful crime.”
But perhaps the tormenting disappointment was only a bad dream, from which we would awaken in the morning. In our hearts arose a violent struggie. We tried to defend our old ideals against everything we had seen and heard.
“But does the Führer have any idea of the concentration camps?”
“How could he not know, since they’ve existed for years and were set up by his closest friends? And why didn’t he use his power to do away with them at once? Why are those who are released from them forbidden on pain of death to tel1 anything about what they went through?”
There awoke in us a feeling of living in a bouse once beautiful and clean but in whose cellars behind locked doors frightfui, evil, and fearsome things were happening. And as doubt had slowly taken hold of us, so now there grew within us a horror and a fear, the first germ of unbounded uncertainty. “

Source 12
But how is it possible that in our country a thing like this could take over the government?”
“In a time of great troubles,” explained Father, “all sorts come to the surface. Just recall the bad times we had to live through: first the war, then the difficult postwar years, infiation, and great poverty. Then came unemployment. 1f a man’s bare existence is undermined and his future is nothing but a gray, impenetrable wall, he will listen to prornises and temptations and not ask who offers them.”
“But after all, Hitler did keep his promise to do away with unemployment.”
“No one denies that. But don’t ask about his methods! He started up the munitions industry, he’s building barracks. Do you know where that will lead? He could have eliminated unemployment by means of peacetime industries—in a dictatorship that can easily be managed. But surely we are not like cattle, satisfied if we have fodder for our bellies. Material security alone will never be enough to make us happy. After all, we’re human beings, with free opinions and our own beliefs. A regime which would tam- per with these things has lost every spark of respect for man. Yet that is the first thing which we must demand from it.”
This talk between Father and ourselves occurred on a long hike in the spring. Once again we had thoroughly talked out our questions and doubts.

Die Weisse Rose

Sophie Scholl

Hans Scholl