As I am working on my book about Zagreb, I keep looking through my writings for my mother’s story about the entry of German troops into the city at the beginning of World War II. Croatia seceded from the Yugoslav kingdom in 1941 and the Independent State of Croatia welcomed the invaders with open arms. But my mother liked to tell about the reactions of common people as the German troops marched in. According to her, there was much jubilation during their awesome performance. And the men in uniforms especially delighted women. “Oh,” they kept exclaiming in high-pitched voices, “how handsome these men are!” Apparently, some women had orgasms at the sight and sound, as well as tremor, of the goose step. This is the story that I have repeated many times, but I cannot find it among my writings. And I did my best to trace it down the last few days. This omission surprises me not only because I am quite sure that I must have written a few words about my mother’s personal experience, but also because there is a possibility that I have felt quite uncomfortable about jotting it down. Whence the discomfort, though? Am I ashamed of my fellow Croats, as my mother was? Or do I find the bulk of women appalling, and not only in the Croatian capital?