EK 1939 WW1-WW2 (and othes)

[Chris Boonzaier]

Looking at all the stuff at shows... it seems to me that

1) there is no medal, of any nation, that is as istantly recognisable as the EK.

2) It is the 1914 iron cross that gripped the German fantasy more than any other, it is the 1914 cross that became an integral part of every day life. At no other conflict do you see it used so "across the board", on rings, breadplates, beer mugs, broches, necklaces, postcards, match holders, bookmarks, ... you name it,at every part of the civilians day, he was confronted with the EK motiv. This was not to be in WW2.....

Why is this ?

Best

Chris

[Ulsterman]

Because it (the EK) was the great unifier - a symbol of a common cause in a divided nation suffering the throes of great socio-political and economic dislocation, regionalism and growth. It was the one thing a rabid Social Democrat and a Prussian Junker could both venerate and earn equally. It was also a symbol of the past that was optimistic-a symbol of a Germany on the rise and "uber alles"-a defeating her European rivals. "They had ceased dealing with the Fatherland in terms of their minds and gave it only their hearts."

In 1939, the party was the central focus-hence the swastika.

In November, 1914 the American war correspondent Edward Fox was in Hamburg and wrote this:

"In a restaurant I saw my first Iron Cross, black against a grey green coat and dangling from a button.

On a broad landing of a wide marble staircase the orchestra played soldier songs and above the musicians, looking down on his people loomed a bust of Wilhelm II, Von Gottes Gnaden, Kaiser von Deutschland.

About him, between the flags of Austria-Hungary and Turkey, blazed the black, white and red, and there where all might read, hung the proclamation of August to the German people. We had all read it through to the last line: "Forward with God who will be with us as he was with our Fathers"- Then we heard an excited inflection in the murmerings from the many tables- "Das Eiserne Kreuz!" . And we saw the officer from whose coat dangled the black maltese cross, outlined in silver. The waiter led he an his beautiful, blond, crinolined companion to a corner table. His cheeks flushed, proud of a limping, shot-riddled leg, proud of his Emperor's decoration, but prouder still he was a German; he must have forgotten all of battle and suffering during the brief walk between the tables. Roaring cheers rang out, clapping, then a song, and when finally the place quieted everybody stared at that little cross of black as though it had a hypnotic power.

Edited October 11, 2005 by Ulsterman