The problem with memories
After many decades, how much should historians listen to those who were there?
IT SEEMS that not a week goes by without my wife looking up from her newspaper to inform me that another prisoner of war connected to the Great Escape has died. The most recent example is the late Vyvyan Howard, who has passed away at the age of 102, and who helped to provide security and distraction for both the Great Escape and the Wooden Horse escape.
Whenever I hear about these fine old chaps dying, I usually feel a sense of regret that I never interviewed them for my book, The Real Great Escape. What gems had I missed? Would Mr Howard have told me something that would have changed the entire way we look at the breakout? Or, at the very least, might he have provided me with some colour, or a nice description of what it was like to receive an earful from the German commandant? I then feel guilty, and worry that I have not been enough of a conscientious researcher.
However, after the moments of self-chastisement, I reflect on how much value can really be gained from interviewing people nearly eight decades after an event.
Over the course of my journalistic and historical career, I have had the privilege of speaking to many elderly people, especially for my book Berlin Games, for which I interviewed in 2004 and 2005 at least twenty men and women who had participated in the 1936 Olympics. At one point, I flew to Zurich for the day to interview João Havelange, who had competed as a swimmer, and even made it as far as Seattle to speak to the American skier Link Washburn. I also spoke to the gold medal-winning skater Maxi Herber on her death bed in Garmisch-Partenkirchen in Germany, who told me how she remembered meeting Adolf Hitler.
At the time, I felt that it was absolutely necessary to meet all these wonderful men and women, and I am still glad that I did. I told myself that even if I spent a lot of time and money in order to get just a few lines from someone, then that surely would make my book just that little bit better, and if I interviewed lots of people, then all those little bits would add up to quite a lot.
I initially adopted the same policy with The Real Great Escape, but after a handful of interviews, I started to realise that maybe this was the wrong tack. Even though it was great to meet those involved – however tangentially – in the escape, it became clear that these meetings were serving no documentary purpose.
The problem came in four parts.
The first was predictable – the memories of so many of us for events that took place many decades ago are far from perfect. The second lies in the fact that the Great Escape is a tale that has been often told – in both books and a hit movie – and it was clear that some of the ‘memories’ the men were relating were in fact episodes they had read or watched. In short, their memories had been corrupted by the versions they had consumed rather than actually experienced. The third problem is partly born out of the second – what these men were telling me was often plain wrong and inaccurate. Finally, there was also a strong sense that my interviewees were on ‘autopilot’, and were presenting me with much-rehearsed retellings of events that would brook no real enquiry or attempts at deviation. In short, I felt frustrated and wondered whether this was the best use of my time.
One of the historian’s maxims is that the most reliable sources are often those produced as near to the event as possible. Clearly, by interviewing people in the present day, I was perhaps using the very worst of sources. This feeling was enhanced when I started listening to the interviews with the Great Escapers that are held at the Imperial War Museum, some of which were recorded just a few years after the war, and it was apparent that the memories were fresh and tallied with some of the documentary sources.
It may sound like common sense, but listening to someone recalling an event after ten years is going to be a lot more useful than listening to the same person recalling the same event after seventy years. In short, I abandoned seeking out those who had been at Stalag Luft III, and instead concentrated on the recordings.
With current and future projects, it is tempting to introduce a blanket ban on interviewing the very elderly. However, this seems monstrously unfair, and I know from many delightful hours of speaking to my 93-year-old friend and neighbour Ray Gallop, that there are many near-centenarians whose minds and memories are far sharper than mine.
But what I will do now is to be far more selective, and try to ascertain in advance whether someone’s memory is worth a long trip. Of course, it is always tempting to rub shoulders with those who were there, but seeing people for that reason alone makes me feel a little uncomfortable.
Despite this policy, I know that the next time I hear about the death of a former Stalag Luft III inmate, or even a Berlin Olympian, I shall still feel that small sense of regret – for the simple reason that you never know what someone might tell you.
I've been asking that question to myself. I've interviewed WWII veterans, but have been interviewing veterans from the Falklands conflict. The first time I've done a project that has been an event within my lifetime. What is interesting is listening/watching accounts from the 1980s and then listening to the accounts from the same people now. Also peoples attitudes, whether political or not. Although what i produce is creative work i am finding that i am having to find more ways of researching things. More so if the people you want to speak to don't use technology or don't want to speak to anyone! But as a mere amateur it is interesting watching how historians alter their views on individuals or on perspectives of their work over the decades. Already it has been 40yrs since the Falklands and it is interesting what people can remember and what they can't. Also, understandably what things they don't wish to remember. Respect has to be at the start. There are a number of people in my town who i could have interviewed, but after their experiences I couldn't ask any questions due to their PTSD. I feel honoured to have met so many fascinating people since getting involved with art and conflict, but am learning that the wonders of recording the human voice can be the most influential and inspiring things.
I think you are absolutely right about interviewing people decades after the relevant subject occurred. When I was researching in the early seventies for my book 'Nazi Gold' I used to locate as much official documentation as I could (not quite so easy in those pre FOIA days) and then conduct personal interviews. Various aspects connected to the story had been published in the mid to late 1940s and some of the people involved merely re-iterated what had appeared in the media at the time. Very often it conflicted with the official documentation and even with some help from me it stayed that way. The same thing happened in another of my book's 'Hitler's Last General'. I located a contemporary statement given to British War Crimes investigators by a young member of the Waffen-SS Hitler Youth Division confirming that he had actually witnessed his Regimental Commander Wilhelm Mohnke giving the order to execute three Canadian POWs. Other SS prisoners had also provided similar accounts of this incident. When my book was published there was a lot of media interest and a CBS TV crew tracked down the former Hitler Youth Division trooper living in Germany. He gave them an interview on the basis it wasn't televised but he agreed that the document he had signed , indicting Mohnke for murder, was accurate and that he was prepared to testify to that effect in any trial. I think a couple of years passed before the German Investigating Prosecutor (with a little prodding) got round to interviewing the trooper but when subsequently questioned by the media as to his evidence he said that the trooper had signed the document under duress. The investigation lasted over five years and during that time Mohnke was never interviewed by the Investigating Prosecutor.