Human nature is not just self-interested – it’s perverse.
I read a couple of books telling the true story of a British soldier (George Millar) who escaped a Nazi POW camp in 1943 (his account of his life on the run in Germany and occupied Europe is entitled “Horned Pigeon,” and is available on Amazon; the sequel, wherein this idiot parachutes back into France to join the Resistance, is called “Maquis”).
The prevailing reaction Millar seems to have encountered is something along the lines of “Ummm, yeah, too bad for you, not sure I can do much for you, now can you kind of leave?” This was true not only in Germany, but even among people who should have naturally been the enemies of his enemy. Even the Resistance guys were suspicious, standoffish, quarrelsome, not always trustworthy.
And then there’s just, as mentioned, pure human perversity. While Millar was on the run, he finds temporary but precarious refuge in annexed Strasbourg (right next to Germany proper). But he is almost ruined when the “underground” organizations that are supposedly his link to escape allow their internal personality conflicts to jeopardize his very life.
First, one of the key underground operatives is suddenly unable to spirit our hero out from the country, because his wife is cheating on him with an SS official. Operative tries to confront her and win her back, she responds “You miserable rat. That is just what I would expect from you when you are supported by your own thugs and I am here alone. You only sniffed and cried when you found me in bed with him in the hotel. I have had one night of utter happiness . . . . Seven hours with him have blotted out the memory of seven horrible years with you. In seven years not one moment of peace and understanding . . . . I love the children. But I need romance in my life, and now, thank God, I have found it.”
Of course, the operative becomes useless and the plan to exfiltrate our hero stalls.
Shortly thereafter, he dubiously accepts the offer of a buxom striking blonde woman to help him escape. Turns out her husband is a leading Nazi, but she swears she hates both hubby and the party, and wants to help the escapee. Blonde proceeds to try to set up a rivalry among our hero and two other escapees hiding at her house. “She was very gay . . . she sat there at the head of her little table, playing with the three of us as though we were billiard balls to be maneuvered in gentle caroms . . . She was obviously playing for a flare-up. I could think of no way to stop it.” Later, they are fleeing from possible pursuit, and the blonde suddenly says to him: “Would you like to see the chateau?”
Our hero, not knowing what else to say and reluctant to offend his supposed savior, agrees. After leading him into the grounds, she goes on:
“Yes . . . a splendid house. It is the German general’s mess at the moment. If we meet anyone, just say that you are with me, and I will get you through. Perhaps it was foolish of me to bring you here. I never could resist a ‘dare,’ and as we were coming along here I said to myself, ‘You wouldn’t dare to take Georges in there.’ So, I ask you, what was a poor girl to do. Yes, it was mad. But now I shall have the memory of your presence here to cheer me through the long, gray months that lie ahead.”
Moral: when the chips are down, human nature reacts in a lot of strange, selfish, sometimes crazy ways (alternate moral: don’t approach crazy chicks for help). “Disinterested heroism” probably accounts for a distinct minority of these various reactions.