The Time My Grandpa Talked About The War

Being Stoic

The Story

It was January 1, 2021, my grandfather’s ninety-eighth birthday, and we were celebrating on Zoom. He was in his room at the assisted-living facility; my son and I were in the basement of our house. Grandpa had gotten quite good at Zooming, and it was a blessing, because I missed his face. His smile, particularly— the way it seemed to take over his whole face, wrinkles cascading. His laugh, too— he’d tip back his head, and you could see all his teeth, and a boyish giggle would come out from that ninety-eight year-old throat. My Grandpa Eddie was something special, is what I’m saying. My son was named after him. 

This was his last birthday, but we didn’t know it yet. 

Photo by Stijn Swinnen on Unsplash

Grandpa Eddie fought in WWII. He was drafted into the army the day he turned nineteen, then sent to France and later England, and crossed over from Normandy in June 1944. He came home some months after V-E day, though he had been slated to move to the Pacific Theater— our family’s story might have been much different if nuclear bombs hadn’t ended the war. These were all facts that we knew, my son and I. Grandpa didn’t talk about his experience of the war, not even when asked directly. He evaded every question by turning the conversation deftly and charmingly toward a global, historical perspective, explaining battles or the mindsets of the people in command.

But on his ninety-eighth birthday Zoom, when his namesake great-grandson started asking questions, he finally answered. 

He told us that in those few months between liberation and the end of the war, he’d been put on guard duty at a concentration camp. We later learned it was Bergen-Belsen, the camp where Anne Frank died. He smelled the burnt flesh from the Germans burning the evidence of dead bodies. As he stood there, a Nazi soldier walked up to him, perhaps looking to bum a cigarette.

“We didn’t know what we were doing here,” the Nazi said to him, gesturing to the camp behind him.

“We didn’t know what we were doing here,” the Nazi repeated, to my Jewish grandfather.

After hearing this story, I pressed Grandpa, asked more questions. I felt agitated, I admit, to know the details. I wanted to know how it felt to be a Jewish man hearing those words from a man who’d been complicit in exterminating millions of Jews.

That was all Grandpa wanted to say, though. He turned the topic over to my son’s virtual karate lessons and staggered school schedule. And, by the time he died nine months later, it was the only truly personal detail he’d ever told me about his time in the war. 

But that was how it was, wasn’t it? Stoicism was what was expected of him and everyone he fought with, no matter what atrocities they faced or how much weighed on them afterward. As the years passed, stoicism helped him move forward instead of dwelling on the horrors he’d experienced. It was the only way to go on living.

The Character Trait

Stoicism is the endurance of hardship or pain without complaint or display of feelings. But it’s also a belief system that dates back to the ancient Greeks. The Stoics believed in accepting things as they are, living close to nature, and regularly contemplating one’s own mortality.

As a character trait, stoicism is much attributed to my grandfather’s generation, which is sometimes called the Greatest Generation or— aptly, for this topic— the Silents. People who were young during the Great Depression and later WWII went through so much early hardship that they developed deep pockets of resilience, a key ingredient in stoicism. I wonder if between the Covid-19 pandemic; the deep political devisions in America since 2016; economic uncertainty; and the terrors inflicted by Hamas and Putin, our current generation of American adults will also turn to stoicism as a survival mechanism.

Let’s Do Some Stuff Together

Try this mantra: “Accept.” Whenever something happens that you want to control but can’t, take a deep breath, think “Accept,” and try to let all judgements and feelings pass through you. This is something that has worked for me in the past but the habit has fallen away. Along with you, my readers, I'll be focusing on it this week. I’ll also be journaling about my own mortality and reminding myself to take a broader view of my life and the arc of human history, so that I can maintain a more stoic perspective. If you keep a journal, join me in contemplating these thoughts.

Want more?

If you’re a parent, teach your child stoicism by complimenting them when they exert their energy over things they can control, like their behavior or attitude, instead of things that are out of their control.

If you’re a teacher, help your students develop resilience in small, safe increments by challenging them do something outside their comfort zone.

If you’re a writer/creator, show stoicism at its best by writing an emotionally balanced character who perseveres without complaint, or at its worst by writing a character who uses stoicism as a blanket to hide their true emotions.

How did this work for you? Leave a comment below, and you might be featured in next week’s newsletter!

Last Week’s Leftovers

Last week, I introduced “Good Character” and received some fantastic feedback! I’m so thankful to the many of you who immediately hopped on board after engaging on Anne Helen Petersen’s comment thread. Subscribers nearly doubled in just one day! On the post, Mary Anne pointed out the confusion between romantic-era and modern interpretations of character; Justin agreed that the term “best” self is anathema to perfectionists; and Leo posited a scenario involving the need for kindness, empathy and openness that inspired me for a future post. Thank you to all readers and commenters!

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Keep hoping. Keep caring. Keep trying.