avoiding the subject, since it interests me so little. Today, however, I'll devote an
entire letter to politics.
Of course, there are many different opinions on this topic, and it's not surprising to
hear it frequently discussed in times of war, but. . . arguing so much about politics is
just plain stupid! Let them laugh, swear, make bets, grumble and do whatever they
want as long as they stew in their own juice. But don't let them argue, since that only
makes things worse. The people who come from outside bring us a lot of news that
later proves to be untrue; however, up to now our radio has never lied. Jan, Miep, Mr.
Kleiman, Bep and Mr. Kugler go up and down in their political moods, though Jan least
Here in the Annex the mood never varies. The end- less debates over the invasion,
air raids, speeches, etc., etc., are accompanied by countless exclamations such as
"Eempossible!, Urn Gottes Willen* [* Oh, for heaven's sake]. If they're just getting
started now, how long is it going to last!, It's going splendidly, But, great!"
Optimists and pessimists -- not to mention the realists -- air their opinions with
unflagging energy, and as with everything else, they're all certain that they have a
monopoly on the truth. It annoys a certain lady that her spouse has such supreme
faith in the British, and a certain husband attacks his wife because of her teasing and
dispar- aging remarks about his beloved nation!
And so it goes from early in the morning to late at night; the funny part is that they
never get tired of it. I've discovered a trick, and the effect is overwhelming, just like
pricking someone with a pin and watching them jump. Here's how it works: I start
talking about politics.
All it takes is a single question, a word or a sentence, and before you know it, the
entire family is involved!
As if the German "Wehrmacht News" and the English BBC weren't enough, they've
now added special air-raid announcements. In a word, splendid. But the other side of
the coin is that the British Air Force is operating around the clock. Not unlike the
German propaganda machine, which is cranking out lies twenty-four hours a day!
So the radio is switched on every morning at eight (if not earlier) and is listened to
every hour until nine, ten or even eleven at night. This is the best evidence yet that
the adults have infinite patience, but also that their brains have turned to mush (some
of them, I mean, since I wouldn't want to insult anyone). One broadcast, two at the
most, should be enough to last the entire day. But no, those old nincompoops. . .