The Pete Quiñones Show - Pete Reads 'Blockade' by Anna Eisenmenger Part 3

Episode Date: May 25, 2024

56 MinutesPG-13Pete continues a reading and lite commentary on "Blockade: The Diary of an Austrian Middle-Class Woman 1914-1924."FoxnSons Coffee - Promo code "peter" for 18% off - https://www.foxnsons.com/VIP Summit 3-Truth To Freedom - Autonomy w/ Richard GroveSupport Pete on His WebsitePete's PatreonPete's Substack Pete's SubscribestarPete's GUMROADPete's VenmoPete's Buy Me a CoffeePete on FacebookPete on TwitterBecome a supporter of this podcast: https://www.spreaker.com/podcast/the-pete-quinones-show--6071361/support.

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Newbridge Warehouse Sale, 28th to 30th of November. Lidl, more to value. I want to welcome everyone back to part three of my reading of Blockade by Anna Eisenmanger. I want to remind you that Thomas 777 and I have started to do movie watch parties and where we watch a movie and comment on it. And the first one we did was the 1976 Martin Scorsese classic written by the great Paul Schrader. taxi driver. And it is available on Gumroad.

And if you go to freeman beyond the wall.com for it slash taxi driver. Taxi driver is one word. You can get links to it, the video, and some have bought the audio. 10 bucks each. And yeah, I think the reviews are rave. And we can't wait to do the next one.

It's, uh, people are already calling in their, um, suggestions. So yeah. All right. Let's get this going. We found out that Carl is a communist. Come back spewing communist ideology. And yeah, there's things are going haywire. All right. So starting back up, November 8th, 1918, failure of the meat supply, Carl's communist immunistic propaganda. Kathy woke me and reminded me that I wanted to take my place in the queue for horse flesh at 7 o'clock this morning. Ten decagrams, about three and a half ounces of horse flesh

per head and food card section are to be given out today for the week. The cavalry horse is held in reserve in the hinterland by the military authorities are being slaughtered for lack of fodder, and the people of Vienna are for a change to get a few mouthfuls of meat of which they have so long been deprived. Horse flesh. I have bought it once or twice before from the illicit dealers without saying anything to lies Beth and Wolfe. I tried, by means of vinegar and spices,

to smother the Swedish taste that was so repugnant to me and assured the children that it was cow's flesh. But though my appetite was sharpened by genuine hunger, not once was it appeased by this food, I admit that it is prejudice. In the objective zoological hierarchy, a horse perhaps ranks above an ox, a sheep, or pig? Why should not one be able to eat a slaughtered horse with as much appetite as an ox or sheep or pig?

I should like to know whether my instinctive repugnance to horse flesh as food is personal, or whether my dislike is shared by many other housewives. My loathing of it is based, I believe, not on a physical but on a psychological prejudice. I do not rank the horse in respect of intelligence above all these. the animals of its species, for instance, above the stag. But I believe that the horse, in virtue of special services, which it renders to man, has become, in a certain sense, man's comrade. Any relation but comradeship between man and horse he rides or drives seems to be absolutely wrong. Where whip and spur holds sway, there will never be

comradeship. A butcher who slaughters horses or a brutal coachman who beats his horse without mercy would never be able to understand my point of view. Such people would be able to enjoy horse flesh and even dog flesh, for it seems to me that the eating of horse flesh is only one degree removed from the eating of dog flesh. Indeed, the thought of eating dog flesh fills me with just the same repugments, though perhaps to an intenser degree as I feel to the eating of horse flesh. A dog may even be more intimately associated with his master than a horse. He lives with his master under one roof and remains in his company, even when he is not rendering him any direct service. I am very fond of dogs and value their good qualities, and I have always felt a warm admiration

for a noble horse, which in its imperishable sense of duty dies in harness as to saying goes. The thought that now hundreds of those noble horses are bleeding to death beneath the butcher's knife fills me with loathing and pity. I cannot refrain from taking this opportunity of alluding to the grotesque lies of the Entente war propagandists who in all seriousness accused us and our German allies of devouring our fallen soldiers. This is one of the many sad chapters in the World War, in which the contest was waged with the most cruel and unfair weapons. The Entente Press, in particular, succeeded in poisoning the souls of the nations and infecting them, and above all, the ingenuous population in America, with a bad thing.

countless hate. Whether they still look back on this achievement with pride, I cannot conjecture. I have wandered from the point, and I am now, and I now returns my unpleasant housewife's duty of standing in a queue for horse flesh. Oh, Kathy, if only it weren't horse flesh, I sighed. But Nadi Fra. We must be glad that we can get any meat at all. It's a fortnight since we had last had any in the house, and the young gentleman needs some strengthening food once in a while. I overcame my repugnance, rebuked myself for being sentimental, and left the house. A soft, steady rain was falling, from which I tried to protect myself with galoshes, waterproof, and umbrella. As I left the house before 7 o'clock, and the meat distribution did not begin until 9 o'clock,

I hoped to get well to the front of the queue. No sooner had I reached the neighborhood of the big market than I was instructed by the police to take a certain direction. Although the people were standing six in a row and six persons at a time were to be admitted, I was obliged to make a halt some minutes walk from the gates of the hall. The police were examining the ration cards of all the people in the queue to see whether they were entitled to horse flesh. I estimated the crowd waiting here for a meager midday meal at 2000 at least. Hundreds of women had spent the night here in order to be among the first and make sure of getting their bit of meat. Many had brought with them improvised seats. A little boxer

bucket turned upside down. No one seemed to mind the rain, although many were already wet through. They passed the time chattering, and the theme was the familiar one. What have you had to eat? What are you going to eat? One consent and sends an atmosphere of mistrust in these conversations. They were all careful not to say too much or to betray anything that might get them in trouble. At length the sale began. Slowly, infinitely slowly, we moved forward. The most determined, who had spent the night outside the gates of the hall, displayed their booty to the waiting crowd, a ragged, quite fleshy, slaughtered piece of meat with a characteristic yellow fat. Some people with a turn for business tried, with more or less success to retail the precious food, raising the price to repay them

for the hours they had spent waiting. They alarmed those standing at the back by telling them, there was only a very small supply of meat and that not half the people waiting would get a share of it. The crowd became very uneasy and impatient, and before the police on guard could prevent it, though standing in front organized an attack on the hall, which the salesman inside were powerless to repel. Everyone seized whatever he could lay his hands on, and in a few moments all the eatables had vanished, as though devoured by a hungry swarm of locusts. In the confusion stands were overturned, and the officials got some rough handling, until finally the police forced back the aggressors and closed the gates.

The crowds waiting outside, many of whom had been there all night and were soaked through, angrily demanded their due, consisting on the occasion of a scrap of horse flesh, and refused to budge from the spot, whereupon the mounted police made a little charge provoking a wild panic and much screaming and cursing. I fled into the adjacent public park, but was driven out of the mountain. again, and at length I reached home, dressed and disgusted, with a broken umbrella and only one galosh. We housewives have during the last four years grown accustomed to standing in cues. We have also grown accustomed to being informed after hours of waiting that the supplies are exhausted and that we can try again in a week's time with the pink card, section number so-and-so.

In the meantime, we are obliged to go home with empty hands and still empty your stomachs. These disappointments are the order of the day. Only very seldom do those who are sent away, disappointed, give cause for police intervention. One hears a little grumbling, and then the women go home and continue their grumbling there, but it is rare for any of them to adopt an aggressive attitude. On the other hand, it happens more and more frequently that one of the pale, tired women who have been waiting in a queue for hours collapses from exhaustion and has to be taken away from the food center in an ambulance. The turbulent scenes, which occurred today inside and outside the large market hall, seemed to me perfectly natural.

In my dejected mood, the patient apathy with which we housewives endure all our domestic privation seemed to me blameworthy and incomprehensible. Carl immediately tried to profit by my state of mind to win me over to his communistic views. Abolition of the present incapable bourgeois form of government, war on capital. capitalism, war profiteers, and exploiters of the starving people, etc. But my inherited bourgeois outlook made me see and fear in these familiar catchwords, merely a provocation to fresh war and hatred, and I protested immediately against Carl's introduction of communist propaganda into my house. My own state of mind made me realize, however, how easy it must be to upset the moral equilibrium of whole classes of the population who have

been forced out of their ordinary habits of life by this unhappy. war and now fall an easy prey to the political agitator. Although the German armies are still fighting on the Western Front, the war has ended for us Austrians and has given place to an armistice. The terrible massacre of human lives has ended as far as we are concerned. After four years that seemed as if they would never end, I have to mourn a terrible war sacrifice, my husband and Otto dead. Ernie, for the time being deprived of his sight, Rudy a cripple with only half a leg,

Carl utterly changed owing to his head wound and perhaps not sane, Lisbeth weak and ailing for lack of nourishing food, Aunt Bertha bedridden with bone softening due to undernourishment. Since the hospitals are full to overflowing and no longer take civilians unless their lives were in danger, there was nothing else to be done but to have Aunt Bertha conveyed to my flat so that I could nurse and look after her. Wolfie, who is now in his sixth year, is healthy and always in high spirits. as well as good and intelligent, though he is very small and for his years.

Five of my nephews and one of my nieces were sacrificed to the war fury, but as to them, I cannot go into greater detail here. The results of these four most terrible years I have ever experienced is, as regards to my immediate family, consisting of eight persons, I do not include Aunt Bertha, who has hitherto lived by herself, namely Victor, my husband, Carl, Otto, and Ernst my sons. Lysbeth, my daughter, Rudy, my son-in-law, and Volfi, my grandson, two dead, three seriously injured, one invalid.

Out of eight people, six clawed by the devilish talons of war, of these six, two torn from us forever, Victor and Otto, of the remaining four Ernie at 19 years of age, condemned to lifelong darkness through loss of his sight. Carl, with his moral equilibrium, seriously disturbed as a result of his head wound. Rudy, a poor, helpless cripple, owing to the loss of both legs, Lysbeth, his wife, suspected of tuberculosis as to result of insufficient nourishment, Wolfie at a tender age and constant danger of infection. The eighth, myself, still in health, but nervously overstrained, and in need of rest. Fully conscious of my heavy obligations,

and firmly resolved to withstand the tempest of fate, and under these melancholy circumstances, still to make the best of everything. I want to fill my dear. are invalids with resignation and courage to bear that fate. I want to try as far as possible to gather together the scanty remnants of their shattered lives and to make those lives worth living. I want to try, under these bitter, altered circumstances to procure for some meager joys without which such terrible blows of fate could not be born for long until time. That infallible, though often cruel, cruelly relentless physician, has transformed even the most crushing, losses into habit. I lay aside my pen and fold my hands. God Almighty, give me the strength to go

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Those people who love going out shopping for Black Friday deals They're mad, aren't they? Like, proper mad. Brenda wants a television and she's prepared to fight for it If you ask me, it's the fastest way to a meltdown. Me, I just prepare the fastest way to get stuff And it doesn't get faster than Appliances delivered.i.e.

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fast. Come see for yourself. The Lidl New Bridge Warehouse Sale, 28th to 30th of November. Lidl, more to value. You wonder about what motivated somebody to start that riot if they were just going to run back in there and get more, or if it is just people giving up and wanting to see feeling hurt and wanting to see other people hurt, wanted to see other people in pain. I don't know. November 18, 1918. For 10 days, I have found not a single quiet moment in which to pour out in my diary a heart that was often full to bursting. These brief intervals of mental recollection and relaxation help me through so much. They help me to find myself again when my self-control threatens to desert me. Here, I can say frankly everything that I am forced to hide from my children, my friends, and from all strangers. Not because I am insincy. and did not love the truth, but because the relentless truth would give pain to others. Although hopelessness and despair weigh upon my heart, like a heavy stone, I must seem confident and cheerful to my poor children.

I must make myself believe that I am really far better off than hundreds of thousands of other women. This is indeed a fact. I am at least immune from material cares and can help my children, since I have a small fortune safely invested in gilt-edged securities. God be thanked for that. The last 10 days have brought us Austrians a whole train of momentous happenings. Our Emperor Carl announced on November 12th his control of state affairs but without abdicating. The socialist party leaders have proclaimed the Republican form of government in Austria

with Dr. Renner as first president. The political revolution is being enacted without any great commotion since both the bourgeois elements and the royalist officers and soldiers maintain a passive attitude and the socialist leaders have the organized working class in hand. I have to admit to the honor of both and guard against needless excesses. Only that the communists who have formed a red guard under Captain Fry have adopted an aggressive policy, but are being kept in check in the joint efforts of the Volksved and the Vienna Police. The official armist was declared on November 4th, today.

Today, November 18th, there is no true. trace of any improvement in our food position. My husband's cousin, Lieutenant General R, explained this melancholy fact to me as follows. All the non-German peoples hitherto united in the Austro-Hungarian monarchy have, during the four war years, been more and more stirred to revolt by the iridentist leaders who have been encouraged by the Entente to the utmost of their capacity. After we were forced to capitulate, the Italians and Serbs in the South and the Czechs in the East, occupied large stretches of territory belonged to the old monarchy. The Italians drove us to the Brenner and the Serbs pushed forward to Marburg and Klagenfurt.

The occupation of purely German territory will, let us hope, be temporary for the final frontiers, which will certainly not be drawn favorably for us, will only be fixed when peace is concluded. Nonetheless, the Czechs, Italians, and Serbs have in the meantime drawn arbitrary frontiers and shut us off from these territories and all their Austrian nation. inhabitants. No more supplies of foodstuffs are to be expected from these regions. With hungry, we already, with Hungary we were already having serious disputes last summer in 1918 because she made such flagrantly selfish use of her abundant farm produce. Corolli had at least had at once strictly forbidden the export of foodstuffs. The territory of the new German-Austrian Republic,

which is not an enemy occupation, is only a fraction of the former territory. territories united in the monarchy. The Czechs have pushed forward their frontiers to close up upon Vienna and deprived of so the most important necessities of life such as milk, fat, sugar, and coal. Only the frontier separating us from Germany is free for imports, but the Germans, in spite of their strict organization, are also suffering from a shortage and can only spare us very little. Since the abdication of Kaiser Wilhelm and of so many German princes, civil war is raging. in many parts of the country. According to the reports which have been received up to now,

the terms of the armistice are incredibly cruel and exorbitant, but we shall be forced to agree to everything in order to put an end to the blockade. This was our cousin's explanation. The socialist government with Dr. Renner as president in its head in vain implored the entente to raise the blockade and let us have foodstuffs. We were required to hand over almost all our agricultural machinery, all our motor lorries, and almost all our railway engines in rolling stock,

and the fulfillment of our request for food was made dependent upon the fulfillment of these conditions. Thereupon, our government decided to have been favor of union with Germany since little Austria was completely helpless against the enemy's terrorism. The proclamation of the union with Germany was received in Vienna with the utmost enthusiasm, and the strains of the Vachten Rheim were heard everywhere. I have always thought of myself as German, and with pride, in contrast with many German Austrians

who were at one time anxious to forget about their German blood. The fervor with which they are now all proclaiming their German origin astonishes me somewhat, just as I failed to understand many ardent Republicans who only a few days ago were firm monarchists. The proclamation of Union with Germany evoked a violent protest from France, and Vienna was occupied by Italian regiments in order that our ministers might not hit upon the original idea of taking independent measures in the interests of their own country. For the French have the leading say in the Entente, and they think that union might make the Germans too strong.

I'm trying to go back here to see what it was looking at here. Yeah, she mentions that she's sort of a... astonished that ardent Republicans within a few days became firm monarchists. Charles Haywood has talked about how in 1933, when Hitler took power, how many people who were formerly Communist Party, Deutschland, overnight became NSDAP. People are, most people aren't ideological. They're just going along with who's in charge. It's recorded an episode with Charlemagne about ideologically.

And there are very few very small groups that are purely ideological in any population. Most people are non-ideological. So November 20th, 1918, momentous decrees, heating of room suspended, only half TWT coal per week, and kitchen, only one room per head allowed. Our flat consists of six rooms with kitchens, maids room, and bathroom. As eight persons live in these rooms, we have nothing to fear from the government control commissions, which are rigorously commandeering unused rooms. Ernie of Ulfie are sleeping in my bedroom. Carl has his own room.

Aunt Bertha is in the writing room. Lisebeth and Rudy, I have put in what used to be our dining room, since, in view of the difficulty of heating, we make do with one room as sitting room and dining room. This is the large room, which used to be the drawing room, looking on to the garden and containing the piano. Up to now, I have been able to keep this room at a tolerable temperature of 12 to 14 degrees ramure by means of a small iron stove. The room has two windows and a double glass door leading onto the veranda, and we get all the winter sunshine on this side. We have even now heat and light. I have furnished this room as best I could and have taken pains to reserve a special place for every member of the family under the large glass. chandelier stands the dining room at every window I have set a writing table. The large gentleman's

writing table with its many drawers has been appropriated by Carl. My own writing table is used alternately by Lysbeth and myself. Poor Rudy, who is still lying in the hospital and is visited daily by Lysbeth, is to have his wheelchair placed before the glass doors, which, with Kathy's help, I have sealed against droughts expressly for this purpose. The wheelchair has two handles by means of which the invalid is able to propel himself. Lysbeth, who is still suffering from the discomforts of her pregnancy and was quite crushed by Rudy's misfortune, has roused herself a little in response to my entreaties. She looks after Ernie and has studied the alphabet for the blind with him so that now they can read together.

Ernie, however, thinks that this is also quite superfluous, as he is convinced that he will very soon have recovered his sight. He submits to this instruction for the blind, mainly because he enjoys Lysbeth's company, and it helps to pass the time. Wolfie has become Ernie's best and most faithful friend. He takes him for walks. He tells him about everything he sees and never leaves him without asking whether there is anything he wants and assuring him that he will very soon be back again. Wolfie also visits poor Aunt Bertha, who can now hardly walk at all and only moves from beds from bed her armchair and back again. Yet she is always cheerful and good-tempered with a genius for diffusing consolation all around her. As she has the room next to the sitting room, I was able

by the opening of the door to maintain a tolerable temperature in her room, too. The bedrooms were only heated very little and according to the outside temperature. Not until the temperature sank to freezing point did Kathy heat the bedrooms a little after she, she had tidied them. As in other years, I had during the summer saved up a little stock of coal in the cellar. When the decree was issued that no one must possess or consume more than one CWC of coal per week, and that it must be used exclusively for cooking purposes, I ought to have notified the authorities of my little supply of coal, which amounts to about one and a half tons. Probably it would be requisition. Possibly I should be fined. During the war, there were...

There had been no government restrictions in regard to wooden coal. The prices were very high compared with peace prices, but it was possible to secure considerable quantities from a coal merchant if one had been a regular customer. Now the difficulty of supplying coal for household needs has suddenly become very painfully aggravated, for the checks have completely stopped the export of coal to Austria and Germany, while the German coal mining districts are occupied by the French or the Poles, who likewise refuse to supply any cold to the vanquished nations. My simple woman's brain tries in vain to understand why the victors have adopted these measures. The temperature has fallen considerably during the last weeks.

Heating of the living rooms has been forbidden by the authorities. A new struggle, which we were spared during the war, is being imposed upon us housewise to struggle against a winter cold in our homes. since I, like most other housewives, had already infringed the law by resorting to complicated and forbidden methods of procuring the most necessary articles of food, I resolved to run the further risk of keeping my little stock of coal in consequence of coming into conflict with the new authorities. As the sellers were to be searched by the Volkssphere for supplies of wood and coal,

I had to act at once. I came to an understanding with our good-natured house board. promising him to court of coal if he would quietly transfer onto the veranda, the stock of coal in my cellar. The other people living in the house must not see it, for how often it had happened that an envious and less fortunate neighbor had secretly given information to the authorities. At 11 o'clock at night when everyone was asleep, I began, aided by Kathy and the house porter to transfer to our veranda and the supply of coal in the kitchen. The porter used the Vietnamese Hosebutt, a large wooden pail carried on the back. Kathy and I together carried the washing basket. As we live on the third floor, we had to go up and down four stories each time, for there is no lift in our house.

But two o'clock in the morning, Kathy was so exhausted that I had to send her to bed. At four o'clock, we had almost all the coal in the veranda, but both I and the porter were utterly worn out. I hastily gave the old man a glass of plum brandy, washed myself clean of the coal dust, and crept quietly into bed, so as not to disturb Wolfie or Ernie. That I should one day, in order to escape freezing in my home, carry up my coal, and thereby constitute myself a criminal, was something that no one had prophesied at my cradle. But this is war, the war of the housewives against the lack of primary physical necessities, which is evidently not to cease even after the cessation of the great war in the trenches.

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Those people who love Going Out shopping for Black Friday deals they're mad aren't they? Like, proper mad. Brenda wants a television and she's prepared to fight for it, if you ask me. It's the fastest way to a meltdown.

Me, I just prepare the fastest way to get stuff and it doesn't get faster than Appliances Delivered.e. Top brand appliances, top brand electricals and if it's online, it's in stock. With next day delivery in Greater Dublin. Appliances delivered.e. Part of expert electrical.

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Ireland Limited. Trading as Cooper Financial Services is regulated by the Central Bank of Ireland. When people declare war upon you and your very existence, which is what is happening here. I'm sure you all know that. You do what needs to be done. And it means you become a criminal. You become a criminal. You do criminal acts. Well, November 22nd, 1918. How well advised I was in transferring my call to the veranda so promptly was proved today. The sellers of our house were searched for coal by the Volksford and their assistance, and all supplies of in excess of a half of CWT were requisition. My coal on the veranda and my meager supply of flowers, peas, and tin milk caused me some anxious moments.

Two soldiers and a civilian strode through the room of our flat, ostensibly to see whether we had space for further inmates. And they did so. They peeped into some cupboards. The sight of bedridden Aunt Bertha, blind Emmy, and poor crippled Rudy who had brought who was brought home yesterday may have induced them to make no more than a superficial investigation, for they found nothing suspicious, and I was grateful for the perhaps unconscious humanity. Thus, the armistice had achieved two things. We were no longer free within our own four walls, and we had no fuel. But I was firmly, resolved to continue the struggle. I had fetched from the garret an oil stove, which had sometimes

in very cold weather, been used in the unheeded answer room during my husband's consulting hours. I procured privately from the stores at which I dealt a few liters of oil, and now I heat our living room, shifting the small portable stove near to the person most in need of warmth. At the same time, however, I resolved by some means to secure a supply of wood, which is not yet rationed. our house border has a brother who is a cab driver. During the war, his horse was requisitioned for the army, and he himself was deprived of his occupation. Now he has had no difficulty in procuring one of the army horses and sits enthroned once more on his box scat. We are living in a time when a relation or a friend among the innkeepers, store proprietors, cab drivers, and even

peasants is an important factor in one's life. I hear that since the coal decree, large numbers of the population of Vienna have taken steps to help themselves. Crowds of men, women, and children make their way to the lovely Wienerwald, which forms such a picturesque setting for the charmingly situated villa suburbs of Vienna, grinzing, doubling, Potslindorf, etc. Armed with perambulators and wheelbarrows, with drawcats and sledges with axes and saws, they make war upon the poor peaceful venervald, whose further extremity does indeed contain a few absurd little trenches, which, for all their use and resisting a hostile invasion, might just as well not have existed. Apart from these, to pictureque dignity of the forest has not been disturbed by the turmoil of war.

Now the venervald, too, is experiencing the horrors of a war. Just as in regions ravaged by artillery fire, the forests covering whole mountain slopes were raised to the ground. So now young trees and old trees alike, and without any discrimination, fall victim to the wood hunters of Vienna. These marauders attack in preference to slopes adjacent to the roads in order to save themselves a long journey. They saw and hacked clumsily and destructively at the level which happens to be most convenient. The young trees planted for purposes of aforestation are trampled down, and the trunks which cannot be carried away are left standing half sawn through. I was an eye-wrested. I was an eye-wrested. I was an eye-wrested. I was

witness of all of this as I drove through Salmondsdorf with my friend the cab driver, who had harnessed his horse before a little cart. At Salman'sdorf, I knew a small timber merchant from whom I hoped to secure a cartload of firewood from my iron stove. When I asked why the authorities allowed the reckless destruction of forests, most of which belonged to the state, I was told that the new government did not want by rearsest section of the Vienerwald to make itself unpopular with the poor people who could not buy themselves any wood, and so did not interfere. But surely it would have been more rational to have had the forest thin systematically and distributed the wood among the most needy. I bought a cartload of wood for a sinfully high price,

though the dealer assured me that he was almost giving it away and that the next time it would cost double as much. After my mission had been successfully accomplished, I journeyed proudly home by the side of my wood, and by good luck on the way home, gave a lift to a friendly member of the Volksved who helped me to ward off successful attempts made by the wood hunters to plunder my cart. The exertions which were procuring and protecting the fuel had cost me made it seem very precious, and I was constantly contriving new ways of eking it out. A diminutive stove fitted to the circular opening of a kitchener can be heated with this very small amount of wastewood. Kathy manages it very well, and also the cooking box in which the food is placed after it has been

heated up. Then the box is firmly closed, and the food goes on cooking inside it without requiring any fuel. Before each door of our tiled stoves, I have suspended a small iron slow combustion stove and am thus able with the aid of my wood to maintain a fair degree of heat in any other rooms without infringing the law. I have done all in my power to deserve my poor invalids from the winter cold. Kathy's sister has a small farm on the border of Steria. Apart from these three meatless days a week decreed by the government, it is becoming impossible to procure meat in Vienna. As a rule, the only thing to be had is unpalatable dried cod, and so Kathy has suggested the following plan. Our cellar is almost empty. It is comparatively warm and has a large window looking on to the street.

Kathy proposes to drive over to her sister and bring back a few laying hens and some rabbits. Kathy will make cages from them in the cellar out of woodb of the old boxes, and we shall have our supplier of eggs and meat on the premises. Wolfie is enthusiastic of the idea of being able to feed hens and rabbits. Kathy has dispelled my doubts as to the possibility of feeding them by reminding me of my Laxenberg friends. Making the best of it. Hope that works out in the basement. November 23rd, 1918, Edith's Good Influence Edith's voice, Carl, and Edith.

Rudy is in despair. He cannot get used to the idea of being a cripple for the rest of his life, Liesbeth, unfortunately, is not equal to cheering him up. Edith, Carl's fiancée, who has been released from her work at the hospital, and so has time to help in looking after my invalids, is a blessing to us all. This slim, fair girl with her pure Madonna face and her capacity for unselfish devotion has no lack of energy and strength of will in pursuing her ends, though she is never officious or tiresome.

She was worshipped at the hospital because she had the gift of imparting even to the most severely wounded, something of that natural, cheerful calm, which emanates from her whole nature like a mysterious healing balm. She could even cheer and console Rudy, when his strong frame was shaken with heart-ending sobs, and he talked of ridding himself of his useless life, which was only a burden to others. To Ernie, too, she was an affectionate comrade, and he was not a little proud of having made as he said, a special discovery about her. Ernie had heard Edith singing a lullaby to Little Wolfie when he had a slight feverish cold and could not get to sleep. Ernie told me that on the way to his

bathroom where I and Wolfie slept too, he caught the notes of this exquisite lullaby by our immortal Mozart and crept softly up to the door in order to hear the better and not to disturb the singer. He heard a wonderfully rich soprano voice whose soft mesmer. of Volch gripped his heart. He knew that it was Edith, who was singing Wolfie to sleep. Mother said Ernst, and he felt excitedly from my hand. Mother, Edith has a voice, an exquisite voice. It must be trained. I shall give her singing lessons. Don't be in too great a hurry, Ernie, I said. You must find out first if Edith is willing to have singing lessons. Oh, she has agreed to that already, he answered. I asked her at once. And how about

Carl, I insisted. He must agree, too. Oh, Carl is bound to be pleased if I help Edith to develop a talent, perhaps a great talent, that has been slumbering until now. You know, Carl, I said, and how strangely contradictory he often is, I almost believe that Carl is jealous of us all where Edith is concerned because she gives so much of herself to us. Oh, mother, if Edith is willing to take singing lessons of me, she will persuade Carl to agree, and I should be so happy. if I could do something for her. Well, let us hope that Edith will reconcile Carl to the idea. Up to now, she has always contrived to soothe him when he is exasperated with us

for not sharing his political views. Do you remember how yesterday evening Rudy and Carl's diametrically opposite views in regard to warfare and war guilt threatened to lead to a serious quarrel and how Edith at the critical moment steered Carl into calmer waters? There, you see, Mother, Edith. Edith can do anything with Carl. She has only to want to want it. With the self-willed persistence of his artistic nature, Ernie now made the training of Edith's voice his foremost aim. The poor boy composed songs which was which she was to sing to him. Unfortunately, however, I have a feeling that Carl does not approve of Edith's musical education. For he himself, since he has devoted himself so ardently to politics, has lost all his delight in music. I have tried several times to persuade Carl, who used to play both the violin and viola, to join in playing something with Lysbeth and Ernie. I hope that this might soothe and relax his nerves, for Carl always seemed in a state of nervous irritation, which he only in some degrees repressed where Edith was concerned.

But he flatly refused when I asked him to play his violin, and on my asking, the reason replied, only people who don't know what to do with themselves can make music nowadays. The times are too serious to be squanded over such things. Fortunately, Ernie was not present, and so was spared the mortification of hearing the tactless answer, but I knew Carl's state of mind and was very much afraid that nothing would come of Edith's singing lessons. You catch them in the corner of your eye. Distinctive, by design, they move you, even before you drive. The new Cooper plugin hybrid range.

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is regulated by the Central Bank of Ireland. Ready for huge savings? We'll mark your calendars from November 28th to 30th because the Liddle Newbridge Warehouse Sale is back. We're talking thousands of your favourite Liddle items all reduced to clear. From home essentials to seasonal must-habs, when the doors open, the deals go fast.

Come see for yourself. The Liddle Newbridge Warehouse Sale, 28th to 30th of November. Liddle, more to value. Those people who love going out shopping for Black, Friday deals. They're mad, aren't they? Like, proper mad. Brenda wants a television and she's prepared to fight for it, if you ask me. It's the fastest way to a meltdown. Me, I just prepare the fastest way to get stuff and it doesn't get faster than Appliances Delivered.aE. Top brand appliances,

top brand electricals and if it's online, it's in stock with next day delivery in greater Dublin. Appliances delivered.ae, part of expert electrical. See it, buy it, get it tomorrow. Or you know, fight Brenda. years ago, I would have said, you know, be a waste of time. What are you doing? Taking, singing lessons, doing this. You just have to keep living. You know, no matter, these people are in much more dire strays when we are. I mean, they're food, their lack of food, lack of heat, and they're not stopping living. We can't either. November 27, 1918. Still a great difficult and getting food supplies, only one candle, only one 16 candle lamp per room allowed.

The meat ration is 12 decograms, about four ounces per head and week, so that we are entitled to 96 decograms per week for the eight members of our household. As in the Army, each man was allowed 40 decograms daily. The 96 decograms due to us weekly would in any case have constituted a very meager allowance. But last week, after standing in a queue for hours, Kathy was only able to secure 20 decograms of meat for the whole week for all eight hungry stomachs. The remainder of the allowance was given her in dried cod, since the Germans, who were not cut off from the sea as we are, at least had fish, some of which they were able to give us. Dried cod, at times the nearest approach to meat officially obtainable in Vienna is, I believe, the secret abomination of many

housewives. I can quite imagine that when other meat is easily unobtainable, one might now and then be quite glad to cook and eat dried cod for a change. Now it is one of the many substitutes with which we are obliged to ruin our poor famished stomachs during the four war years. As it has been soaked for a whole day in order to soften it preparatory to cooking, one is so nauseated by the smell by the time it is ready to serve that all appetite has vanished. For this reason, I had long ceased to put dried cot on our table, but I smelt it for days at our neighbors. And so, as so often before, we were at a loss to compose the menu for our midday meal, but finally decided on a bean soup in Quaker oats with cranberries. Thanks to my friend at Luxembourg, I had a little

supply of pulse foods. They are nourishing, and my family do not dislike them. The cranberries, Kathy had brought back from her sisters, and since they were preserved real sugar, they were relished by all as a rare delicacy. Kathy told us that her sister made the syrup herself out of sugar beet. The hen and rabbit farm, which Kathy has started in the cellar, was gradually beginning to function, and sometimes supplied us with one or two eggs a day, which seemed to us all a tremendous boon, for eggs were unobtainable in Vienna except by underhand means, when they cost three or four cronan apiece. Kathy brought up the first egg from the cellar with an air of almost religious solemnity, and it was handed round and admired like some precious jewel,

while Kathy kept on warning us not to let it drop. I reserved to myself the sole right of distributing these eggs among my invalids in order to obviate any rivalry and self-sacrifice. I kept a careful record so that I could always check whose turn it was to have an egg, as my peasant woman also let me have a few eggs now and then in exchange for tobacco for her husband, who had now almost completely recovered. I had the joy of being able to supply my household with this valuable food fairly often. Nothing afforded Wolfie greater delight than to search the hens' nest for eggs. Yesterday in his excitement, he stumbled on the cellar staircase with an egg in his hand, and his precious booty landed against the wall. Wolfie's misfortune was beyond repair. It was his

supper, and I had not another egg in the house. But when our need is sorest, God's help is nearest, and this help came quite unexpectedly through the medium of our house border. Again, it was my husband supplied tobacco, which did me good service as so often before in these difficult times. My husband had, in fact, been a great smoker and fancy that he could not live without his Tramuko cigars. As he feared that the quality of these cigars might suffer from the war, He had, at the beginning of the war, before tobacco was rationed, laid in a large supply of good tribunco cigars. Smoking was his one weakness, and as government tobacco became gradually worse and worse and dearer, he was triumphant since his good cigars were considerably cheaper.

After his death, I did not know at first what to do with the piles of cigar boxes. Four of my sons' only Otto had been a regular smoker. Ernie occasionally smoked a cigarette, while Carl had at the front got into the habit of smoke in a pipe and was. was not interested in my cigars. So I was able to dispose of them freely and to work wonders with them in my bartering transactions. Our house porter asked me mysteriously whether I would give his son a few cigars in exchange for some pork and lard. Pork and lard. I'd hardly believe my ears, but it was a fact. The house porter told me that his son wanted to exchange about four pounds of pork and 10 pounds of lard for 50 cigars. I went into the house porter's flat, and there I found

Shani, his son, cutting up half of a fat sow. When I asked him where he had got it, where he got this treasure, he answered evasively. We didn't go to the war in order to starve ourselves in the hinterland. Everyone has to help himself as best he can. And then he praised the delicacy of the meat in the tones of an expert, for he was a butcher's apprentice. I watched him separating the meat from the fat and was ashamed of the greedy delight which filled me at the sight now become so rare of an excellent piece of pork. At that moment, I understood the acts of criminal violence, now so frequently perpetrated against persons and property

just for the sake of one satisfying meal. Johnny was still wearing his dirty field uniform, though the former marks of distinction were missing. Round his sleeve was a red armlet, and red braid was sewn onto his cap. I handed him the cigar box. He sniffed the cigars and said, I'd rather have had Virginia's.

The house porter wrapped up my table. treasure for me in some sheets of newspaper and I hurried to our flat in order that I might console Wolfie, who was still bewailing the loss of his egg with a real pork chop. The fat was immediately melted with the utmost care by Kathy, who was in an ecstasy of enthusiasm at the stroke of luck, and after much reflection, a portion of the meat was put on the veranda, where, as the temperature was below zero, it would keep fresh for the next few days. As we had received this week two pounds of potatoes per head. The supper was a banquet, for I was able to give every member of the household the piece of pork and two potatoes. A portion was set on one side for Carl, who had frequently

been absent from home of late. It was a delight to see how they all enjoyed the meal and how the depression, which weighs upon all of us, was perceptibly lightened by this appetizing food. mummy asked Wolfie, who had finished his portion and was wiping the fat from his plate with a piece of nasty yellow maize bread. Mummy, why don't we have roast pork every day? Lysbeth left the question unanswered, but Rudy, who was sitting at the dining table in his wheelchair, embarked on an explanation which soon soared far beyond the child's understanding. You want to know why we don't eat roast pork every day? Well, the explanation is very simple. We have at the moment in Austria a large, number of two-legged pigs who won't let themselves be slaughtered, but we have far too few four-legged pigs to enable us to eat roast pork every day. The two-legged pigs in this country cannot do anything

to help matters. For the four-legged pigs who used to come to us from Hungary, Serbia, Bohemia, and Poland are kept back by the two-legged pigs in those countries, and so we can't eat roast pork every day. Is that clear? Wolfie did not look as if he had taken in a word of this, though he was obviously tried, he was obviously very hard to, it was hard, though he had obviously tried very hard to understand what his father was saying. He cast a helpless glance at Aunt Bertha, who shares our meals propped up in a comfortable armchair. Are there really pigs with two legs? He asked with a puzzle's expression. Rudy burst out laughing. Yes, indeed, there are, my boy, and one must be aware of them no less than a beast of prey.

The emphatic answer and his father's assertion that two-legged pigs do exist, utterly disconcertive, Wolfie, but on Bertha helped him out of his difficulty. Wolfie, my child, don't let your father upset your notions of natural history. The pigs that you are thinking of all have four legs. We cannot have roast pork every day because the soldiers among who, I include your father, have eaten up all the pigs, and the countries that have pigs refused to sell us any. And I will tell you what your father meant by the two-legged pigs, for it is a lot. right to give a child explanations that he can't understand. If you call a man a donkey or a sheep or a pig, you're abusing him. You know that, don't you? Oh yes, said Wolfie eagerly. Uncle Carl always calls Kathy an old sheep. Hush, I said, for Kathy was just entering the room. Well, Aunt Bertha continued,

one ought not, of course, to make such comparisons. The animals haven't deserved it, really interrupted. One ought not to make them because a well-bred, cultured person doesn't call names. but not everyone is well-bred and cultured, and so they do call names. And if someone calls me a pig, he means that there is something unclean about him. He is not only unwashed, but also a bad man. And your father meant that at the present day here. Here and other countries, there are a great many bad men. Well, if he reflected for a moment, then he said,

still thinking of the good roast pig he had just enjoyed, but the pigs are not all dirty if you wash them well, else we shouldn't eat them. The explanation which Rudy now gave was just as incomprehensible to Volfi as the first. You are right, Wolfie. He said, the four-legged pigs are washed before we eat them, whereas we often have to put up with the two-legged ones unwashed.

Moreover, it is a man who has made the four-legged pigs such that the name pig is sometimes used as a term to abuse of abuse for his fellow man. only when is only when it was the name pig it's sometimes used as a term of abusive only when it was promoted to the position of a domestic animal did the honest wild boar become a pig in the human sense here ernie intervened after edith had cut up his portion so that he could easily eat it without help let's have no more of this talk about pigs the pork was delicious and i'm only interested to know how mother secured this rare dish i should like to know that

that too, declared Rudy emphatically. And Lysbeth said, you know that Mother works wonders in getting food for us, and that it is, thanks to her ingenuity, that we all are alive now. Kathy, who entered the room at that moment, saved me an answer. Now, Frow, do you know where Shawnee got that pork? No, he stole it. What? Good heavens. Here's a nice business. We exclaimed simultaneously, and Kathy continued. He had a quarrel with his father, and then the old man came upstairs and told me, me that Shawnee and some of his war comrades all belonging to the Volksferre had simply gone to a cattle house and killed and carried off some pigs. A pretty business, I said, and now we may all be sent to prison. Why, Nalfrau? They never touched the Vauxfair men. They can do what they like. Shani came up

after his father and asked whether Nauphrao would like another pig next week. Oh yes, cried Volfi, but I refused emphatically and no one protested. Inwardly, however, I resolved to keep in touch with Shawnee. Where our physical welfare was concerned, I had long since abandoned all respect for laws, the observance of which was equivalent to suicide, and I seized every opportunity to preserve my family from the dangers of starvation and cold, which were now becoming more and more threatening. After this appetizing meal, we all felt more cheerful, and when Kathy had cleared the table, and I had put some wood in the iron stove. Ernie seated himself at the piano while Lisbeth put Wolfie to bed.

Rudy, Edith, and I remain seated at the dining table for a new decree forbade the use of more than one lamp in each room. Rudy, who has a certain amount of technical ingenuity, began drawing artificial legs since none of those he has tried up to now had been comfortable. I fetched my patience cards out of the writing table drawer. for that evening I meant to be thoroughly lazy for once. I was not going to think of food and fuel, and no one was to speak to me about them.

Ernie played the opening chords of Schubert's wonderful song, Dubest derou der Freed Mild. He called to Edith, recited the words, and begged her to sing to his accompaniment. Edith, who was not familiar with the song at first, hummed it softly. Then, as if she could not resist the wonderful charm of the piece in Ernie's playing, Her voice began to express doubtless unconsciously all the emotion with which it filled her. She was wholly absorbed in the words and music, and her sweet, clear voice trembled with emotion.

Ernie's playing harmonized perfectly with Edith's singing. He had thrown back his head and a radiant smile played over his lips. Edith was standing just behind the chair, his chair with her hands clasped. She sang simply and without any physical effort. Her pure forehead with the delicately arched dark eyebrows and the clear blue eyes beneath them was bent forward slightly. It struck me that, it struck me that evening, especially that Edith and Ernie were very much alike, and that they might easily be taken for brother and sister. I had long since stopped setting out my patience cards.

Rudy, too, had laid aside his drawing. We listened with our eyes fixed on these two young people who, in the rendering of their joint masterpiece of Schubert and goat had forgotten everyday life and its sorrows. Suddenly, the door was flung open and Carl entered. Although he did not utter a word as he stood in the doorway, Ernie stopped his playing, perhaps because of the cold draught, which blew from the unheated lobby with the sitting room and made me shiver. Please do shut the door, Carl. You know what a struggle we have to keep this room warm. And when he had shut the door rather violently, I said, would you like your supper? No thank you. I've lost my appetite. And with a surly glance at Edith, who had moved forward,

to welcome him. I told you the other day that I don't approve of this dabbling with music at such a serious time. Ernie stood up, a deep flush spread to the roots of his fair hair. Do you think you can hurt me by saying that? I don't want to, answer Carl. You are a poor innocent victim of war profiteers. I don't grudge you your little bit of music, but Edith thought not to waste her time humming songs at such an important political epoch. And he turned to Edith. I gave you a book to read. We might go into my room to discuss it for here. He added in a mocking tone. My expositions are not likely to excite much interest into your room, but it isn't heated.

And you've had the window open all day, I exclaimed in amazement. That doesn't matter, does it, Edith? In the hospital, you've grown accustomed to all sorts of temperatures. And when Edith made no reply, I'll let you have my sheepskin. You certainly won't freeze in that. Edith said that she must go home as it was already nearly nine o'clock, whereupon Carl decided to accompany her, and as they went out, I heard him say, this is the second time, Edith, that you have gone away so soon as I arrived.

We all felt bitter words rise to our lips, but we all suppress them. When I asked Ernie to play something else, he refused at first, and when I begged him, Ernie do please play the song of the 10th of May. He dropped heavily onto the music stool and began to play his composition with an almost peevish ill-will, quite unsuited to its melancholy harmonies. But as so often before, music proved its power to soothe and console. Ernie's playing became calmer and finally attuned itself to the wistful yearning melody, which told of homesick, homesickness, and the memory of a mother's tears wept in time of peace. The finale, which passed over into the major key and a rapid gradation,

arched over the whole like a glorious rainbow over dark storm clouds. I went up to Ernie and stroked his fairhead. Thank you, my child. And we'll end it right there. Next one. We got to pick up at December 3rd. The hunger blockade to continue until peace is finally concluded. Needless inhumanity of the checks.

They're so worried about the checks. Oh my God, Neville Chamberlain. Oh, all right. Yeah, there were ads during this. You can avoid the ads, get the episodes early. If you got a free man be on the wall.com forward slash support, support the show at the substack, subscribe star. You can do where else, where else, where else, Patreon website right there and gumroot. All right.

So, yeah, we'll be back for part four. Really hope you're enjoying this. This is an amazing, amazing book, and I'm glad I decided to read it at this time. All right. Take care. It's Friday night. Have a good weekend.