From The Blood of Others, by Simone de Beauvoir
"You'll regret it," said Blumenfeld. "So you think that Hitler will stop at Austria? You'll see. France's turn will come."
Gauthier looked coldly at Blumenfeld. "Is it possible to stop a country from committing suicide? Everything that you've told us amounts to a suicide story."
He was so sure of his pacifism, so sure of himself. "I am a pacifist." He had given a definition of himself once and for all, he had only to act in accordance with his own idea of himself, neither looking to left or right, as if the road had been already marked out, as if the future had not, at every instant, been that gaping void.
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Having lived during World War II, from 1st grade to 5th grade, it greatly shaped my thinking and my ideals. Young men went off to war, and many never returned. After the war finally ended a young man who was serving an LDS mission wrote home asking for help for families in England who were destitute. We had so little, but dutifully gathered up what we could but the request for "especially shoes" was almost laughable. We were still having to use ration points for shoes and wore them out, got them half-soled, and wore them out some more. I've thought of that request often all these years. It wasn't just the people in the battlefields who suffered and had want. It was those of us at home, too. We were Depression Kids, used to doing without, but the sobering thought that others didn't have shoes to repair, to hand down, to make do with brought home the terrible nature of war. Ezra Taft Benson was sent by the Mormon church to Europe to get relief supplies to the suffering saints and many others. We didn't see pictures for many years, but when we finally did, it was horrifying. What madness makes people want to destroy a civilization? Later, after marrying and moving to Salt Lake we knew personally those who were war refugess. Over and over they testified of how the church relief saved their lives, their dignity and their families. They spoke often of the wonder of being in a free land, the USA. We knew our small efforts had made a difference, especially with the fast offerings we paid each month for the relief of the poor. The church had carloads of grain ready to ship as soon as peace was declared. It had been stored for ust such a purpose. Women made quilts. Men gave suits, coats, whatever, many after they'd already given years of their lives for freedom. Now we have our grandson Geoff serving a mission in Germany, in Chemnitz, not too far from Berlin. How times change. Despite war, and all the dreadful things that happened, we realize sometimes war is necessary to liberate others from terrible despots whose goal is wickedness.
I get a bit impatient when I hear people fawning words of peace, without doing anything to really bring it about. It starts at home, in families, but it also starts in defense of those who are being bullied, wherever, whenever. Peace? We pray for peace, and stay prepared. As the mother of a Guardsman who has had to step up and put his service into action, I still pray for peace, but I am also glad to have one who I know will honor and respect freedom by his willingness to serve his country, wherever, whenever. Sorry to be so wordy, but freedom is important. We learned France had no tradtions to protect, and that was why they caved in to the Germans. The British said "To the last man" and prevailed, and so did freedom. It isn't an automatic, and it isn't always someone else. Love, Elinor
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