It is immaterial for the experiment whether it is done with or against the will of the person concerned. For the individual the event seems senseless, just as senseless as my actions as a doctor seem when isolated. The sense lies much deeper than that. Can I, as an individual, detach myself from the community? Can I remain outside and do without it? Could I, as a part of this community, evade it by saying I want to live in this community, but I don’t want to make any sacrifices for it, either of body or soul? I want to keep a clear conscience. Let them see how they can get along. And yet we, that community and I, are somehow identical. Thus I must suffer these contradictions and bear the consequences, even if they remain incomprehensible. I must bear them as my lot in life, which allocates to me its tasks. The meaning is the motive—devotion to the community. If on its account I am guilty, then on its account I will be answerable. There was war. In war, efforts are all alike. Its sacrifices affect us all. They were incumbent upon me. But are those sacrifices my crime? Did I tread on the precepts of humanity and despise them? Did I pass over human beings and their lives as if they were nothing? Men will point at me and cry “euthanasia”, and falsely, “the useless”, “the incapable”, “the worthless”. But what actually happened? Did not Pastor Bodelschwingh, in the middle of his work at Bethel last year, say that I was an idealist and not a criminal? How could he say that? Here I am, subject of the most frightful charges, as if I had not only been a doctor, but also a man without heart or conscience. Do you think that it was a pleasure to me to receive the order to permit euthanasia? For 15 years I had toiled at the sickbed and every patient was to me like a brother. I worried about every sick child as if it had been my own. My personal lot was a heavy one. Is that guilt?