heinz neddermeyer

That afternoon they sailed from Yokohama, bound for Vancouver. Christopher had never before seen the farewell ritual of throwing one end of a paper streamer from the ship to the shore, thus linking yourself for a few last moments with someone you are leaving behind. As the ship began to move, Christopher suddenly imagined Heinz standing down there on the dock, the streamer pulling tight between them, then snapping… The experience was almost physically painful.
—  Christopher Isherwood, Christopher and his Kind
Anti-Nazism had been possible for me as long as Nazism meant Hitler, Goering and Goebbels, the Gestapo, and the consuls and spies who potentially menaced Heinz on his travels. But now Heinz was caught. He had become, however unwillingly, a part of the Nazi machine, at work in a Berlin factory. Now Werner was helping to build the Siegfried line, and dozens of boys I had known were in the German army.
Suppose I have in my power an army of six million men. I can destroy it by pressing an electric button. The six millionth man is Heinz. Will I press the button? Of course not – even if the 5,999,999 others are hundred per cent Jew-baiting blood-mad fiends (which is absurd).
—  Christopher Isherwood, Diaries, Volume One: 1939-1960