My mother listens to the radio after I retire to my room in the evening, and she reports to me about the news early in the morning before I go to work. This morning I asked her whether she had heard anything about the bombing of Belgrade on April 6, 1941. She said that she did not, but then she told me that she and my father went to an air-raid shelter in Zagreb that day, because there was a possibility that Zagreb would be bombed, too. Then she proceeded to tell me what happened when the Germans entered Zagreb a few days later. My parents had a German maid, Lisa. A fine woman of about forty. She would occasionally bring with her one of her nieces, a girl of about sixteen. A nice girl, too. Her family had lived in Zagreb, while Lisa came from the country. The day after the occupation of Zagreb Lisa brought her niece again. When she came in, she raised her arm: “Heil Hitler!” As it turned out, she was in the Hitler Jugend. “However,” my mother concluded, “Lisa always remained the same.”