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Thirty-two years old at the time, still living in his mother’s home, unsure of himself physically, sexually, socially, professionally, he became involved with a woman who not only stimulated him tremendously but also challenged all his sexual assumptions. The richness, grief, pain, confusion, and pleasure of this relationship provided the vehicle that eventually transported Fritz from his medically oriented practice into that of psychotherapy. Consider, if you will, Fritz’s mental state at the time.
Fritz received an exceptionally strong dose of anti-Semitism during the war. Not considering himself Jewish by virtue of religious belief, yet considered that by the officers he served under, he often wondered who his enemies were — the English Tommies he was fighting against or his countrymen who gave him more hazardous assignments in the hope, perhaps, of having one less Hebe around. He was to describe those years as the hardest period of his life. He witnessed death and destruction on a colossal scale and found himself, at times, anguished by having so many injured to attend to that he did not know where to turn or whom to choose to help.
There was a pen lying about and so I jabbed Steve with it. Fritz hit the shit out of me to the point where my bones rattled. Another time, my mother was away somewhere. My nurse was at the table, my father was at the head of it, and I heard him grunting and snorting while he was eating his food. I leaned over and I said to the nurse, ‘Hey, Mira. ’ She told him this. Back to the box room again. This was a smaller room, when we were living in another house. 37 Martin Shepard—Fritz [e-reads] “And another thing that confused me.