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der the Nazis, Joe said. I know what it's like. Is that just talk, to live twelve, thirteen years -- longer than that -- almost fifteen years? I got a work card from OT; I worked for Organization Todt since 1947, in North Africa and the U.S.A. Listen -- He jabbed his finger at her. I got the Italian genius for earthworks; OT gave me a high rating. I wasn't shoveling asphalt and mixing concrete for the autobahns. I was helping design. Engineer. One day Doctor Todt came by and inspected what our work crew did. He said to me, You got good hands. That's a big moment, Juliana. Dignity of labor; they're not talking only words. Before them, the Nazis, everyone looked down on manual jobs; myself, too. Aristocratic. The Labor Front put an end to that. I seen my own hands for the first time. He spoke so swiftly that his accent began to take over; she had trouble understanding him. We all lived out there in the woods, in Upper State New York, like brothers. Sang songs. Marched to work. Spirit of the war, only rebuilding, not breaking down. Those were the best days of all, rebuilding after the war -- fine, clean, long-lasting rows of public buildings block by block, whole new downtown, New York and Baltimore. Now of course that work's past. Big cartels like New Jersey Krupp and Sohnen running the show. But that's not Nazi; that's just old European powerful. Worse, you hear? Nazis like Rommel and Todt a million times better men than industrialists like Krupp and bankers, all those Prussians; ought to have been gassed. All those gentlemen in vests.
But, Juliana thought, those gentlemen in vests are in forever. And your idols, Rommel and Doctor Todt; they just came in after hostilities, to clear the rubble, build the autobahns, start industry humming. They even let the Jews live, lucky surprise -- amnesty so the Jews could pitch in. Until '49, anyhow. . . and then good-bye Todt and Rommel, retired to graze.
Don't I know? Juliana thought. Didn't I hear all about it from Frank? You can't tell me anything about life under the Nazis; my husband was -- is -- a Jew. I know that Doctor Todt was the most modest, gentle man that ever lived; I know all he wanted to do was provide work -- honest, reputable work -- for the millions of bleak-eyed, despairing American men and women picking through the ruins after the war. I know he wanted to see medical plans and vacation resorts and adequate housing for everyone, regardless of race; he was a builder, not a thinker. . . and in most cases he managed to create what he had wanted -- he actually got it. But. . .
A preoccupation, in the back of her mind, now rose decidedly. Joe. This Grasshopper book; isn't it banned in the East Coast?
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How could you be reading it, then? Something about it worried her. Don't they still shoot people for reading --
It depends on your racial group. On the good old armband.
That was so. Slavs, Poles, Puerto Ricans, were the most limited as to what they could read, do, listen to. The Anglo-Saxons had it much better; there was public education for their children, and they could go to libraries and museums and concerts. But even so. . . The Grasshopper was not merely classified; it was forbidden, and to everyone.
Joe said, I read it in the toilet. I hid it in a pillow. In fact, I read it because it was banned.
You're very brave, she said.
Doubtfully he said, You mean that sarcastically?