“The constant Heil Hitler’s, clicking of heels, and brown-shirted storm troopers and black-coated SS guards marching up and down the street grate me, though the old-timers say there are not nearly so many brown-shirts about since the purge . . . Twice (we) have had to duck into stores to keep from either having to salute the standard of some passing SA or SS battalion or facing the probability of getting beaten up for not doing so.
Like a Roman emperor Hitler rode into this mediaeval town at sundown today past solid phalanxes of wildly cheering Nazis who packed the narrow streets that once saw Hans Sachs and the Meistersinger. Tens of thousands of Swastika flags blot out the Gothic beauties of the place, the facades of the old houses, the gabled roofs. The streets, hardly wider than alleys, are a sea of brown and black uniforms.”