...his own devices more than he actually was -- as I was quite vividly speculating about -- might have killed off even more of your kith and kin than he actually did, that's what's with you guys. :-( Damn, I HATE this German Guilt Komplex that, yes, affects even those of us whose parents weren't old enough to fight in that war. One DOES, it seems, if one was raised in a normal-by-European-1970's-norms household, desperately want to feel some pride in one's national heritage, even though that heritage can be tainted worse than the very soil at Ground Zero, Chernobyl.
But every German having attained or already occupied a state of consciousness after, at the very latest, May 8th, 1945, is denied that pleasure at least in its purest and most unadulterated form. What one can rejoice in is, on the one hand, "But all those peaceful achievements; Neuschwanstein, Beethoven, Bach...!" -- Yeah, but notice how that began with a "but"? Or, on the other hand the nutcase option: "Damn, they lost, too bad" -- the Neo-/Old Nazi route -- which, however coolest their uniforms admittedly were, I'm trying to avoid, thankyouverymuch. Which leaves, on the gripping hand, (the impossibility of) trying to reconcile relief that they didn't win with pride that they *almost* did: "Whew, good thing they got whipped in the end, but *dang*, how close they came to winning!". (And howevermuch you try to take pride in the fact that no such small people ever came as close to beating the whole rest of the world, the Romans and the Mongols, together with who knows how many peoples going back to at least the Hyksos, stand there laughing you in the face.)
Which all, I think, is what's behind the sales success of Alternate History ranging from P. K. Dick over, whossname, Philip Pullman?, to Harry Turtledove. But those authors all have trouble coming up with plausible explanations why not only Onkel Adolf but, much more importantly, our grandfathers and grandmothers and all our grand-uncles and grand-aunts and great-grandfathers and great-grandmothers and so fucking on and on would have stopped killing off you guys before there was nobody left to found Israel. :-(
Fuck, I shouldn't be posting these ramblings after finishing off the overwhelming majority of a  1:75 liter bottle of Portuguese Rosé (and half of a bottle of red before that, with dinner), after Anki falls asleep from less than two glasses of it. But that'sh the way it ish.
(And yeah, the *Literature* Nobel for Churchill, how ridiculous is that? But OTOH, that was a more honest age: Back then, they apparently felt bound by the name of the Peace Prize not to give it as a War Prize, as it pretty foreseeably turned out to be in Obama's case.)