Germany was a bit different than France, in almost all regards. For instance, our forced removal from France was in December - we arrived at Kaiserslautern on a Sunday I believe. Monday morning my sister and I were arrested for not being in school! Yeah. Just playing on the swing set at the hotel and boom! off to police holding. As Germany was to prove, it was not the friendliest of places to live, unless you appreciate complete control freaks.
It was also the place where father changed radically. In Portland, following the Cuban Missile Crisis, father was rarely to be found. In France he was around the home a great deal of the time. But, in Germany, he was gone for most of the time on Temporary Duty Assignments. Yes the world was a crazy place in 1967 and 1968. We knew where he was to be, we usually knew what was going on from the news, but his absences to those places often ran weeks longer than the actual news event. It was mystifying to this young man.
On the plus side, mother suffered no more almost fatal "accidents". But she did become the family control freak - attempting to micro-manage a teen male and that did not go very well - especially since she was barely twice my age as it was! Of course, when father was home I would catch hell and he became increasingly physically abusive.
There had been times in Portland when I can remember he would come home and just beat the tar out of me, whip me until I bled, for some ill thought out prank. But, there was once I could agree that I had that level of punishment coming. That was the time I pulled a knife on him to protect myself from phase II of his abuse. Bad idea, when you do not really know how to use a knife for defense. In Germany, it became worse. I swear if I opened my mouth, it was going to be filled with his fist. That little arrest incident over playing on the hotel swings, brought on one of the most unjust of all beatings - especially since my sister received no punishment at all. Somehow, I was to have known better than to play in a playground on a Monday morning..... So I tried to stay away from him and the family as much as possible. Oh yeah, I was beaten for that as well.
And honestly, I have no idea what our being in Germany had to do with his escalating violence towards me in particular. But, even Germany itself was not exactly a great place back then either - as I will discuss later.
Monday, December 27, 2010
Monday, December 20, 2010
Deportation
In the world of politics, relations between America and France deteriorated tremendously - thanks to the US Ambassador, Sargent Shriver. As read in the Stars and Stripes, as well as pieced together from adult conversations: Shriver had a son whom was 14 at the time. Said kid in 1966 stole a car, went for a joyride and ended up killing an old woman walking along side the road. DeGaulle confronted Shriver over this and the conversation turned ugly. DeGaulle suggested that if the US could not control its children, then maybe they needed to leave French soil by the end of 1967. Shriver countered that if DeGaulle could not appreciate all the US was doing for France then perhaps the US needed to leave by May 1967. DeGaulle then issued an order that all NATO facilities were to be closed as of April (26th as I remember) 1967.
Of course the French were outraged by this. It was just more fuel for the French nationalist fires burning over America's entrance into the Vietnam conflict, a French territory. Local villagers where I lived rose up in arms and slaughtered several of the NATO children living across the canal from us - amongst them my only English speaking friend.
Things had become so messy that by December 1966, we were escorted off French soil by machine gun toting policeman - all the way to the German border. They were actually quite nice officers, had lunch with us, were very apologetic, etc.
Of course, change is evil and for those suffering with mental problems, change manifests evil..... And father was not alone in getting a share of mother's difficulties.
Of course the French were outraged by this. It was just more fuel for the French nationalist fires burning over America's entrance into the Vietnam conflict, a French territory. Local villagers where I lived rose up in arms and slaughtered several of the NATO children living across the canal from us - amongst them my only English speaking friend.
Things had become so messy that by December 1966, we were escorted off French soil by machine gun toting policeman - all the way to the German border. They were actually quite nice officers, had lunch with us, were very apologetic, etc.
Of course, change is evil and for those suffering with mental problems, change manifests evil..... And father was not alone in getting a share of mother's difficulties.
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
France - Further Strain
Heeding his friends wisdom, father applied for and got a posting to France. His hope was to get mother to become less of a control freak and more dependent upon him. Best laid plans as they say.
At the time, for some unknown reason, father utterly freaked out when we landed in France. He went from normal to completely unable to speak for many weeks! And he spoke French fluently, but with having lost his voice, we were dead in the water. Something in father's past I assume caused this but I have no idea what stressed him to that level, just by landing in Paris.
Mother really did not do very well in France. She refused to learn French, speak anything other than English and began rapidly becoming very 'odd' - like yelling at the French in English so they could hear her better. Little things like leaving the house were only done when she was to drive to the nearest NATO base for shopping. She formed no relations with any of the neighbors, except one old couple whom would watch my sister and I after school. Yeah, odd.
My parents marriage must have begun deteriorating badly as father did some mighty odd things himself. There were a series of 'accidents' which almost killed mother. Were they accidents? Or were they planned? Mother was convinced that father was trying to kill her - the NATO police did not agree. But, the grilling father got only made him more angry with her.
Within a short period of time, a kerosene heater failed and almost killed her due to carbon-monoxide poisoning. Father was affected too but not near as bad as mother was. Mistake, equipment failure or by design?
Father set a trip wire on the stairs which went up to the attic where mother hung the clothes in winter time. She darn near broke her neck coming back down the stairs! I know father did that because I saw him setting it but was too naive at the time to figure that one out! The police never talked to me about that and I was ultimately blamed for it! That was one was by design, which makes me wonder at the other incidents!.
A short time later, mother was driving to the local NATO base and one of the wheels came off of the car. The only reason mother survived the crash was a tractor had pulled out onto the road and she slowed down from 60 to 20 before the parting of the wheel from the car. Again, another accident? NATO police blamed the local communist party. But, where did they get a non-metric lug wrench for a car? American bolts do not match up with metric tools well and the nut heads were in good shape. No, that had to be father or another American in the area.
But why do this at all? I can not believe that he was planning on returning to Monika.....
My first indication that mother had lost it was when we were vacationing in Spain in 1966. One morning she, out of the blue, started screaming and hollering about how we had to return home that day, immediately! It was all very unpleasant and father drove us non-stop all the way from the Spanish coast to northern France in one horrible 27 hour drive! Mother screaming, no words, just screaming the entire time! Father so angry he bit the stem of his pipe in half, us kids cowering in the back seat. Lord only knew what would happen next! It was that bad.
Definitely, whatever it was that set her off, she remained 'odd' for the rest of her life. One would at this point suppose that another change might help. As it was world politics were about to provide a change of scenery for her and massive trauma for father. Us kids were just plain screwed.....
At the time, for some unknown reason, father utterly freaked out when we landed in France. He went from normal to completely unable to speak for many weeks! And he spoke French fluently, but with having lost his voice, we were dead in the water. Something in father's past I assume caused this but I have no idea what stressed him to that level, just by landing in Paris.
Mother really did not do very well in France. She refused to learn French, speak anything other than English and began rapidly becoming very 'odd' - like yelling at the French in English so they could hear her better. Little things like leaving the house were only done when she was to drive to the nearest NATO base for shopping. She formed no relations with any of the neighbors, except one old couple whom would watch my sister and I after school. Yeah, odd.
My parents marriage must have begun deteriorating badly as father did some mighty odd things himself. There were a series of 'accidents' which almost killed mother. Were they accidents? Or were they planned? Mother was convinced that father was trying to kill her - the NATO police did not agree. But, the grilling father got only made him more angry with her.
Within a short period of time, a kerosene heater failed and almost killed her due to carbon-monoxide poisoning. Father was affected too but not near as bad as mother was. Mistake, equipment failure or by design?
Father set a trip wire on the stairs which went up to the attic where mother hung the clothes in winter time. She darn near broke her neck coming back down the stairs! I know father did that because I saw him setting it but was too naive at the time to figure that one out! The police never talked to me about that and I was ultimately blamed for it! That was one was by design, which makes me wonder at the other incidents!.
A short time later, mother was driving to the local NATO base and one of the wheels came off of the car. The only reason mother survived the crash was a tractor had pulled out onto the road and she slowed down from 60 to 20 before the parting of the wheel from the car. Again, another accident? NATO police blamed the local communist party. But, where did they get a non-metric lug wrench for a car? American bolts do not match up with metric tools well and the nut heads were in good shape. No, that had to be father or another American in the area.
But why do this at all? I can not believe that he was planning on returning to Monika.....
My first indication that mother had lost it was when we were vacationing in Spain in 1966. One morning she, out of the blue, started screaming and hollering about how we had to return home that day, immediately! It was all very unpleasant and father drove us non-stop all the way from the Spanish coast to northern France in one horrible 27 hour drive! Mother screaming, no words, just screaming the entire time! Father so angry he bit the stem of his pipe in half, us kids cowering in the back seat. Lord only knew what would happen next! It was that bad.
Definitely, whatever it was that set her off, she remained 'odd' for the rest of her life. One would at this point suppose that another change might help. As it was world politics were about to provide a change of scenery for her and massive trauma for father. Us kids were just plain screwed.....
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
Control Freak
I have mentioned in the past that I was a very aware young man, much to my parents dismay. I could see, hear, reason and then understand a great deal far in advance of my years. One of my many observations revolved around my parents marriage. All was not well.
Father could tolerate no dust, no disturbance in his life! So he would hide nickels around the house and then upon returning home, inspect the house to be sure all of the nickels had been accounted for as well the house work done to his satisfaction! This went so far as to the proper tautness of the blankets on our beds and both my sister and I were inspected every afternoon for having achieved this. Failure to do so ended with increasingly painful punishments.
I was not allowed to wear tennis shoes and so my shoes had to be inspected every evening as well. Apparently this one task I excelled in and so by the time I was eight, he had me doing his shoes every evening. Mandatory spit shine. Okay I will admit that on occasion I would blow my nose on his shoes. He never knew the difference and it gave me pleasure not to spit on his shoe but give him a snot shine....
Father was not an native English speaker, mother was, and she was constantly correcting him. It became a power point for her to hold over him. Also, she would choose the worse possible foods - things she knew he hated. Think rutabagas, turnips and parsnips! I am violently made ill by even the smell of them ... father was merely irritated by them. It was just one more of many points of contest between them.
And someone amongst father's friends suggested that he should put the shoe on the other foot and completely remove her from her comfort zone. Oh yeah, that one is going to teach her a lesson, right?
Father could tolerate no dust, no disturbance in his life! So he would hide nickels around the house and then upon returning home, inspect the house to be sure all of the nickels had been accounted for as well the house work done to his satisfaction! This went so far as to the proper tautness of the blankets on our beds and both my sister and I were inspected every afternoon for having achieved this. Failure to do so ended with increasingly painful punishments.
I was not allowed to wear tennis shoes and so my shoes had to be inspected every evening as well. Apparently this one task I excelled in and so by the time I was eight, he had me doing his shoes every evening. Mandatory spit shine. Okay I will admit that on occasion I would blow my nose on his shoes. He never knew the difference and it gave me pleasure not to spit on his shoe but give him a snot shine....
Father was not an native English speaker, mother was, and she was constantly correcting him. It became a power point for her to hold over him. Also, she would choose the worse possible foods - things she knew he hated. Think rutabagas, turnips and parsnips! I am violently made ill by even the smell of them ... father was merely irritated by them. It was just one more of many points of contest between them.
And someone amongst father's friends suggested that he should put the shoe on the other foot and completely remove her from her comfort zone. Oh yeah, that one is going to teach her a lesson, right?
Monday, November 29, 2010
Sports
I have to admit that one thing I never did understand about father was his complete disregard for anything related to sports. I am not sure he actually ever played a sport, even as a child! He was a terrible runner and though he boasted of having been a skier - he actually couldn't even do the basics. So, I think he must have watched skiers, not actually ever skied himself.
When I was 8 years old, I was growing at the rate of just over one inch a month! My parents hauled me into the doctor's since I was getting really tall for my age - his advice: buy the kid a basketball. Of course, had I any coordination that might have been really good advice but I was an utter klutz and more than once was beaten up by the ball.
Sports never did play an important role in my life, but I did play for all of the schools I attended. Soccer teams in France and Germany, baseball in Germany, basketball and tennis here in America. And for all of those games, across all of those years, want to guess whom never came to a single one? Yeah, father.
I know in his mind it revolved around work being first, wife second, then friends, then children. But you would think that in 8 years he could have made one game! Especially true for the ones on Saturdays.
So, I think you are getting a picture of the man I really did not know very well.
When I was 8 years old, I was growing at the rate of just over one inch a month! My parents hauled me into the doctor's since I was getting really tall for my age - his advice: buy the kid a basketball. Of course, had I any coordination that might have been really good advice but I was an utter klutz and more than once was beaten up by the ball.
Sports never did play an important role in my life, but I did play for all of the schools I attended. Soccer teams in France and Germany, baseball in Germany, basketball and tennis here in America. And for all of those games, across all of those years, want to guess whom never came to a single one? Yeah, father.
I know in his mind it revolved around work being first, wife second, then friends, then children. But you would think that in 8 years he could have made one game! Especially true for the ones on Saturdays.
So, I think you are getting a picture of the man I really did not know very well.
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
Fishing
My grandfather, mother's strep-father, loved fishing. If he was not working, then he was fishing. I never caught anything but it was a fun activity. Somewhere, father got the idea to take me fishing.
Now we lived on top of the bluff, on the northwest side of the Willamette River valley, overlooking Swan Island. So, off we marched to the little road which wound its way down to the water. Father of course was in shirt and tie, his most basic of all leisure dress. His shoes were inappropriate for hiking on a muddy road with a steep incline. Yes, you guessed it, he went a tumbling sliding down the length of that road!
Oh was he ever so angry over that mud bath! I think I picked up swear words in five languages during that one!
So he ordered me back home and I had to wait at the top while he slipped and cursed his way back up to the top of the bluff. That was to be the end of all fishing trips for him.
Luckily, two of my friends were old enough to walk with me and so we would go together. No we never caught anything but then I am not sure that is the point of male adventures or bonding.....
Now we lived on top of the bluff, on the northwest side of the Willamette River valley, overlooking Swan Island. So, off we marched to the little road which wound its way down to the water. Father of course was in shirt and tie, his most basic of all leisure dress. His shoes were inappropriate for hiking on a muddy road with a steep incline. Yes, you guessed it, he went a tumbling sliding down the length of that road!
Oh was he ever so angry over that mud bath! I think I picked up swear words in five languages during that one!
So he ordered me back home and I had to wait at the top while he slipped and cursed his way back up to the top of the bluff. That was to be the end of all fishing trips for him.
Luckily, two of my friends were old enough to walk with me and so we would go together. No we never caught anything but then I am not sure that is the point of male adventures or bonding.....
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Camping
Usually, when we went hiking, we were also camping. Through the years, father bought some very nice tents and we really got our money back out of them! During the time in Oregon we camped often along the coast - particularly in fall when the storms could bring Japanese floats to shore, in the California redwoods, Crater Lake, the woods around Mt. Hood and the Warm Springs Indian Reservation! And often mother's mother and step-father would come with us and camp as well. It was good times for this little camper when my grandparents were there!
These were times of much fun for me - father and I got along hiking and I would try and help father set up camp or tear down. But, father unfortunately was a perfectionist, and perfectionists are not pleasant people to be around! Especially when you are camping and it is supposed to be an enjoyable time!
Yeah, well, you can only try for so long - even a kid will eventually learn to give up when abused enough. I rapidly learned to do as little around camp as I could and to avoid him as much as was possible at all times. I took to fishing.
Apparently, he never even noticed.
These were times of much fun for me - father and I got along hiking and I would try and help father set up camp or tear down. But, father unfortunately was a perfectionist, and perfectionists are not pleasant people to be around! Especially when you are camping and it is supposed to be an enjoyable time!
Yeah, well, you can only try for so long - even a kid will eventually learn to give up when abused enough. I rapidly learned to do as little around camp as I could and to avoid him as much as was possible at all times. I took to fishing.
Apparently, he never even noticed.
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Hiking
Outside of work and mathematics, father really did not have any interests. But, he did love the out of doors.
When I was really young, we would go hiking as a family. My earliest of the hikes being a drive up Sandia Mountain and then walking around. I can remember father loving the view, mother fussing over my toddler sister and my thinking the dirt/sand/whatever it was, was most interesting.
Through the years in Portland, we did go on a great many hikes: on beaches, along the river, to parks, on the glacier at Mt. Hood, Mt. Bachelor area, etc.
My favorite hike was in a place we called "Mosquito Lakes", no idea what the real name was but those mosquitoes were sure memorable! I had taught myself how to whistle and so father would be singing some opera and I would be whistling along. It was a great few days with him.
Sometimes he would see something which reminded him of hiking in the Bernese Oberland - a beautiful mountainous area of Switzerland, and then he would talk about his sister and hiking with her. Things he thought I would never remember and yet those were the things which were the most important about him to me. It was our one point of communication. And to beour great point of dispute later in life.
When I was really young, we would go hiking as a family. My earliest of the hikes being a drive up Sandia Mountain and then walking around. I can remember father loving the view, mother fussing over my toddler sister and my thinking the dirt/sand/whatever it was, was most interesting.
Through the years in Portland, we did go on a great many hikes: on beaches, along the river, to parks, on the glacier at Mt. Hood, Mt. Bachelor area, etc.
My favorite hike was in a place we called "Mosquito Lakes", no idea what the real name was but those mosquitoes were sure memorable! I had taught myself how to whistle and so father would be singing some opera and I would be whistling along. It was a great few days with him.
Sometimes he would see something which reminded him of hiking in the Bernese Oberland - a beautiful mountainous area of Switzerland, and then he would talk about his sister and hiking with her. Things he thought I would never remember and yet those were the things which were the most important about him to me. It was our one point of communication. And to beour great point of dispute later in life.
Monday, November 1, 2010
Spooky Story
Being as we just had Halloween, it is the perfect time to tell something spooky and of course about father.
Now, something had gone terribly wrong with my sister and she was rushed off to California for surgery accompanied by my mother, so that left father and I as bachelors, and yes, we were a bit bored. So we planned to take a Saturday and building something fun with my father's Erector Set.
The day started out normally enough: father made Rosti - a Swiss potato dish he made for us kids on Saturday mornings. We cleaned up and set up to build something with the cool erector Set!
Only, there was this HUGE explosion which rocked the house and we ran outside. All of the neighbors were also coming out as well. The blast was still echoing around the Willamette River valley below us. Dad called the police but there were no explosions they knew of. Next he called the Portland Air Base and reported the sound. They had heard it too and had already identified it as a super-sonic blast. Only problem - there were no aircraft anywhere over the area on radar.....
Everyone went back to their homes scratching their heads over that one.
So, father and I returned to our construction and built an elevator which would lift a marble, drop it onto a rail, where it would run around for a while and then hit the elevator at the bottom just in time for a ride back up. Mesmerizing.
Father took a bathroom break and I went and got some water for us. We both walked back in just about the same time, I just a few feet ahead of him.
In the center of the room, in the corner of my eye I saw something, to this day I have no idea what it was but it went from hanging in the air to a blur of acceleration in a fraction of a second! I yelled at father to duck and threw myself backwards. Father did the same and the what ever it was streaked within inches of his face was he was falling. It then buried itself into the hallway wall.
Father was naturally quite shaken. We both just stood and looked at the hole in the wall and eventually father reached in with a pair of pliers and pulled out a little car build out of Erector Set Parts. We looked at each other and ran to the table where our marble carrier stood. It was still completely assembled - only the marble carrier was missing from the elevator shaft!
A hoist engine and wheel sat directly over the elevator shaft. There was no way the little car could have been removed - and yet IT WAS!
No question something para-normal had occurred, no question there was no natural explanation, no question it had happened, no question it could have killed father, no question about that hole in the wall either.....
On base, the police had a good laugh until they came out to the house and saw the evidence. Of course, everyone thought I had thrown the item, but I had two cups of water and was a might small as it was. The hole in the all looked like a bazooka had hit it. One of the guardsmen even tried to punch a hole in the hallway wall with his gloved fist - but it was a lath-wood wall and all he did was break a bunch of fingers. Literally!
We left the house for a few days and I think went camping. Father was to never mention this again to anyone, even me - aside from one comment one time - "It must have been done with magnets....". And I think we are at the point where what existed of father's religious faith had died ...
Now, something had gone terribly wrong with my sister and she was rushed off to California for surgery accompanied by my mother, so that left father and I as bachelors, and yes, we were a bit bored. So we planned to take a Saturday and building something fun with my father's Erector Set.
The day started out normally enough: father made Rosti - a Swiss potato dish he made for us kids on Saturday mornings. We cleaned up and set up to build something with the cool erector Set!
Only, there was this HUGE explosion which rocked the house and we ran outside. All of the neighbors were also coming out as well. The blast was still echoing around the Willamette River valley below us. Dad called the police but there were no explosions they knew of. Next he called the Portland Air Base and reported the sound. They had heard it too and had already identified it as a super-sonic blast. Only problem - there were no aircraft anywhere over the area on radar.....
Everyone went back to their homes scratching their heads over that one.
So, father and I returned to our construction and built an elevator which would lift a marble, drop it onto a rail, where it would run around for a while and then hit the elevator at the bottom just in time for a ride back up. Mesmerizing.
Father took a bathroom break and I went and got some water for us. We both walked back in just about the same time, I just a few feet ahead of him.
In the center of the room, in the corner of my eye I saw something, to this day I have no idea what it was but it went from hanging in the air to a blur of acceleration in a fraction of a second! I yelled at father to duck and threw myself backwards. Father did the same and the what ever it was streaked within inches of his face was he was falling. It then buried itself into the hallway wall.
Father was naturally quite shaken. We both just stood and looked at the hole in the wall and eventually father reached in with a pair of pliers and pulled out a little car build out of Erector Set Parts. We looked at each other and ran to the table where our marble carrier stood. It was still completely assembled - only the marble carrier was missing from the elevator shaft!
A hoist engine and wheel sat directly over the elevator shaft. There was no way the little car could have been removed - and yet IT WAS!
No question something para-normal had occurred, no question there was no natural explanation, no question it had happened, no question it could have killed father, no question about that hole in the wall either.....
On base, the police had a good laugh until they came out to the house and saw the evidence. Of course, everyone thought I had thrown the item, but I had two cups of water and was a might small as it was. The hole in the all looked like a bazooka had hit it. One of the guardsmen even tried to punch a hole in the hallway wall with his gloved fist - but it was a lath-wood wall and all he did was break a bunch of fingers. Literally!
We left the house for a few days and I think went camping. Father was to never mention this again to anyone, even me - aside from one comment one time - "It must have been done with magnets....". And I think we are at the point where what existed of father's religious faith had died ...
Monday, October 25, 2010
Back To Portland, Again
My father was able to calm down after moving the family back to Portland, Oregon. From here on out he would often be gone for extended temporary duty assignments (TDY). But, when he was home he was occasionally the man I wanted to remember but mostly the man I do not. He absences were so pronounced that in our little town that father was believed to have abandoned the family! And when he was around it was not pleasant on my backside, punishments were meted out whether earned or not. Something was really wrong with him internally, I was to realize as an adult.
Every summer, I would be able to go stay with my great uncle, whom I still admire and have to give him the nod for being the major contributor in forming my inner values. He was my real father, the man whom visited our family I no longer knew.
Of course, my great uncle was ancient and only lived until I was 10 but those were important years for me.
If from father I learned to appreciate opera and Wagner, hiking and nature, the stars and space. Then from Leonard I learned fishing, boat building, self subsistence, dairy herd management and everything there is to know about chickens. But, he also taught me about wealth, generosity, helping the poor and honoring the dead.
Yeah, between the two of them I was shaped to understand technology and dream, as well as, to have my boots ground in the cow-pies and how to milk a cow. Combined, this created a bit of a challenge for my future teachers......
Every summer, I would be able to go stay with my great uncle, whom I still admire and have to give him the nod for being the major contributor in forming my inner values. He was my real father, the man whom visited our family I no longer knew.
Of course, my great uncle was ancient and only lived until I was 10 but those were important years for me.
If from father I learned to appreciate opera and Wagner, hiking and nature, the stars and space. Then from Leonard I learned fishing, boat building, self subsistence, dairy herd management and everything there is to know about chickens. But, he also taught me about wealth, generosity, helping the poor and honoring the dead.
Yeah, between the two of them I was shaped to understand technology and dream, as well as, to have my boots ground in the cow-pies and how to milk a cow. Combined, this created a bit of a challenge for my future teachers......
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
Back Home
This part has now been rewritten several times. It is hard to write this part and not say what I have promised myself not to say..... So, long post has been mostly parred down:
What was to follow for father was now to spend the next several years in some special classes to catch him up to date with the state of the art in mass destruction. To do that he was sent down to Sandia Labs, as well as, Lawrence Livermore Labs. And though I was but a small boy, I remember those labs well - which would be much to the shock to everyone whom just wrote me off as "that curious toddler".
Yeah, I can remember those years very well, the odd characters whom floated in and out of that creative scientific community. But the names are long gone.
My strongest memory was of one of the scientists whom always carried a spare zipper in his pocket. When some particularly interesting problem was poised, he would dig out that zip and just zip and un-zip it! "Kris, notice this zipper, how the teeth fall together with such ease. How could someone have conceived of something so simple and yet so strong in holding our pants together ..."
And there was another scientist I remember whom loved reptiles and always had one in one of his pockets to play with while he thought.
Yeah, they were an odd bunch, but they loved having me around and all of those meetings were stored in my memory, which would bite me later in life. But, although I might remember them, I could in no way understand until I was much older.
:^)
What was to follow for father was now to spend the next several years in some special classes to catch him up to date with the state of the art in mass destruction. To do that he was sent down to Sandia Labs, as well as, Lawrence Livermore Labs. And though I was but a small boy, I remember those labs well - which would be much to the shock to everyone whom just wrote me off as "that curious toddler".
Yeah, I can remember those years very well, the odd characters whom floated in and out of that creative scientific community. But the names are long gone.
My strongest memory was of one of the scientists whom always carried a spare zipper in his pocket. When some particularly interesting problem was poised, he would dig out that zip and just zip and un-zip it! "Kris, notice this zipper, how the teeth fall together with such ease. How could someone have conceived of something so simple and yet so strong in holding our pants together ..."
And there was another scientist I remember whom loved reptiles and always had one in one of his pockets to play with while he thought.
Yeah, they were an odd bunch, but they loved having me around and all of those meetings were stored in my memory, which would bite me later in life. But, although I might remember them, I could in no way understand until I was much older.
:^)
Monday, October 11, 2010
Spies Like Us
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| 55,000 in this Protest |
Much of the blame for the two uprising in Hungary and later in Czechoslovakia can be blamed directly on Radio Free Europe - they openly encouraged citizens of those two countries to rise up in revolt, even promising US aid - which was never to come. It was just a political ploy to give the Soviets a headache - and those games killed a great many innocent people whom trusted the radio voices.
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| No Russian Sense of Humor |
Back in Iceland, father had been blinded in an explosion. No real idea what he could have been doing that time! He was blinded for a while but when as his sight returned he had to wear glasses to correct for the permanent damage. He really hated those glasses but seeing is a nice activity. He was issued a pair of normal everyday PINK military framed glasses. I never could understand why the US military would only issue pink frames - like it was most men's favorite color? Gees! They were horrid.
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| Father in Budapest. |
So, although officially in Iceland for several more months, he was also on the world stage playing spy. And if you think of it, what are the odds you are going to be where you are not supposed to be - and end up getting photographed in the wrong place, at the wrong time, by a photo-journalist? Makes you wonder.
It also was the first hint that maybe there was a great deal I did not know about father.....
Monday, October 4, 2010
Reunion
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| Road To Keflavik |
Actually, the base was loaded with ex-Germans at this time. The official reason? To do paperwork searches on each of them to confirm their role(s) in WWII. Oh ouch! For father this was going to be trouble now.
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| No Shorts in Summer? |
But, as you will shortly find out: they were to be risking their lives in ways they never would have thought possible.....
Monday, September 27, 2010
The Subject of Religion
This is the appropriate time to discuss father and his religious beliefs. Why? Because you have to remember earlier I told you about father converting to Judaism before marrying Monika, the young female prisoner he had met while interned at Wöbbelin. So father was circumcised and this knowledge may have lead to a mis-identification of him by the US military.
To the US Military they had a quandary on their hands. Father was known to have escaped from the advancing Russians, placing him on the east side of the Elbe River. He was Jewish, that was obviously apparent from his medical examination. Jewish, eastern Europe, survivor. That pretty limited him to Nordhausen or Mittelbau. But, was it possible to have escaped the SS carnage the US Army had discovered before the Russians had advanced on the Mittelbau complex? This also meant he was a scientist or at the least science labor. He had to have been familiar with the rocket programs. So, his enigmatic past drew attention to him he really did not want. Could it be there was anyone whom could be found whom knew him before his marriage to mother?
Father was really born into a Lutheran family in the small town of Munchstein, in Baslestadt, Switzerland. The year he ran away from home, to join the Nazi cause, was also the year he went through Lutheran confirmation. His family, and the church's pastors, all believed father was destined to join the priesthood.
Those Lutheran beliefs were obviously killed by the war - he saw what Lutherans were capable of - first hand. His conversion to Judaism I am fairly certain was completely based on his sense of national and personal guilt. What happened in the concentration camps was to have quite an impact on all of Germany and all whom I grew up with. (And, yes, I understand that it was not the Lutherans whom were running the Nazi Party, but this was HIS take on the situation! In truth, 7.5 million Christians were sent to the concentration camps for opposing Hitlers agenda.)
Father still held to his Judaism. When I was born he personally brought in a Rabbi from Sacramento, California to see to my circumcision, on the eighth day, as required. I was unable to be taken out the hospital for the first several months of life. Babies of extra young mothers have a great many challenges in just surviving.
As I grew up, father taught me the Law of Moses, how to pray - in Yiddish, God's language of course!, and with a firm understanding that there is God - but you really do not want to know Him since he is not a very good god to his people. I should say that part was beaten into me more than anything.
As I grew older, into teenage hood, father and mother clashed more and more over religion and food, eventually this brought about their divorce. But we can look into that episode much later!
Following his divorce from my mother, father became an outright atheist. Except he knew there was a God, he just did not what any part of him any longer. So, perhaps it would be best to categorize father as a gnostic for the final fifty years of his life. And, my becoming a Christian was about the final straw for him concerning me.....
To the US Military they had a quandary on their hands. Father was known to have escaped from the advancing Russians, placing him on the east side of the Elbe River. He was Jewish, that was obviously apparent from his medical examination. Jewish, eastern Europe, survivor. That pretty limited him to Nordhausen or Mittelbau. But, was it possible to have escaped the SS carnage the US Army had discovered before the Russians had advanced on the Mittelbau complex? This also meant he was a scientist or at the least science labor. He had to have been familiar with the rocket programs. So, his enigmatic past drew attention to him he really did not want. Could it be there was anyone whom could be found whom knew him before his marriage to mother?
Father was really born into a Lutheran family in the small town of Munchstein, in Baslestadt, Switzerland. The year he ran away from home, to join the Nazi cause, was also the year he went through Lutheran confirmation. His family, and the church's pastors, all believed father was destined to join the priesthood.
Those Lutheran beliefs were obviously killed by the war - he saw what Lutherans were capable of - first hand. His conversion to Judaism I am fairly certain was completely based on his sense of national and personal guilt. What happened in the concentration camps was to have quite an impact on all of Germany and all whom I grew up with. (And, yes, I understand that it was not the Lutherans whom were running the Nazi Party, but this was HIS take on the situation! In truth, 7.5 million Christians were sent to the concentration camps for opposing Hitlers agenda.)
Father still held to his Judaism. When I was born he personally brought in a Rabbi from Sacramento, California to see to my circumcision, on the eighth day, as required. I was unable to be taken out the hospital for the first several months of life. Babies of extra young mothers have a great many challenges in just surviving.
As I grew up, father taught me the Law of Moses, how to pray - in Yiddish, God's language of course!, and with a firm understanding that there is God - but you really do not want to know Him since he is not a very good god to his people. I should say that part was beaten into me more than anything.
As I grew older, into teenage hood, father and mother clashed more and more over religion and food, eventually this brought about their divorce. But we can look into that episode much later!
Following his divorce from my mother, father became an outright atheist. Except he knew there was a God, he just did not what any part of him any longer. So, perhaps it would be best to categorize father as a gnostic for the final fifty years of his life. And, my becoming a Christian was about the final straw for him concerning me.....
Monday, September 20, 2010
Joining The Military
So, for whatever reason, the sandwich shop failed and father took his friend's advice and joined the military. I do not know where his basic training was at but I do know that mother went back to live with grandmother on the houseboat opposite Swan Island in Portland.
Having completed his basic training, father was stationed temporarily at a base in California - where I was then born. Under the US laws I was born under, if your father was foreign and you were born on Federal property - not US soil - you were not granted automatic citizenship. So, I was born a German citizen, since this was father's nationality at the time. The state of California, wondering how to register the birth, ended up issuing me a permanent voter's registration card! But, no birth certificate. The hospital on the base issued me a live birth card, stipulating me foreign born - and a female. (Thank you, you worthless military typist!)
Anyways, that little distinction - Federal property - not US soil, was to haunt me until I was 20, when I finally went through naturalization - even though I WAS a US citizen according to the US agreement father signed. So, that closed that problem, mostly!
Probably the greatest of father's inabilities was the lack of knowledge as to how people behave. He judged all by the standard of himself and though he was a world class liar, he was never sneaky. A very odd combination. You could not trust his words but you could his motives and actions. If your life was in his hands, he would lose his first to save you (not me, I'm the troubled son, remember?). Weird.
So, had father of been of just even average knowledge concerning human behavior, he would have looked at his first post and wondered - "Why am I here?" Why would a foreign national have immediate access to weapons of mass destruction? Had he of thought about it - he would have realized he was being tested and set up for the next step in the devious US plot to draw him out into the open.
But, in any event, father was shortly to find himself in hot water with the US Government. We can call this one Cold War paranoia, however this time it was for all Germans in the US employ.....
And, I now am at a bit of a breaking point. So far I have been fairly free to write about father's life - however, his work for the US Government was very hush-hush and I have no desire to go through yet ANOTHER citizenship hearing, with the threat of being deported - again! So, we will ignore a great deal of father's professional life. Sorry, I am not going to tell you how to build weapons of mass destruction - go to the library and read up on it, everybody else does. Though you may find that libraries are more accessible on such subjects in other countries than in the US....
Anyways, that little distinction - Federal property - not US soil, was to haunt me until I was 20, when I finally went through naturalization - even though I WAS a US citizen according to the US agreement father signed. So, that closed that problem, mostly!
So, had father of been of just even average knowledge concerning human behavior, he would have looked at his first post and wondered - "Why am I here?" Why would a foreign national have immediate access to weapons of mass destruction? Had he of thought about it - he would have realized he was being tested and set up for the next step in the devious US plot to draw him out into the open.
But, in any event, father was shortly to find himself in hot water with the US Government. We can call this one Cold War paranoia, however this time it was for all Germans in the US employ.....
And, I now am at a bit of a breaking point. So far I have been fairly free to write about father's life - however, his work for the US Government was very hush-hush and I have no desire to go through yet ANOTHER citizenship hearing, with the threat of being deported - again! So, we will ignore a great deal of father's professional life. Sorry, I am not going to tell you how to build weapons of mass destruction - go to the library and read up on it, everybody else does. Though you may find that libraries are more accessible on such subjects in other countries than in the US....
Monday, September 13, 2010
Return To America
It is now fall of 1953. My mother had successfully raised the $100 to have father allowed back into the US and father, under who knows what pretense, leaves his now pregnant wife and returns to America. (Of course, this instantly raises the thought of father being a "dirty double crosser", since he crossed the Atlantic Ocean a second time to return to America. And, a double entandre as well it would seem.....)
Back in Portland, he needed employment and went to work at a sandwich shop near the train station I believe. Though this is where a bit of a conflict comes up as he claimed later in life that he had owned the sandwich shop and went bankrupt later on. This might be true however, but no matter which - the US Government now had him pegged as to whom he was and the wheels were quietly in motion to suck him to their employment. Very innocently, the man whom had been father's INS case worker during his deportation jail time and trial, looked father up, was to become his best friend and gently guide father in the direction the government wanted. It was almost Machiavellian how it worked out. And though he was a family friend, even to a small child as I was, I could plainly see that there was an agenda being played - but then again, I needed to be an adult to understand why what happened, actually happened.
So father married the now 15 year old girl he had saved two years earlier and blam! she was pregnant. Well, now father needs to do something because there is a family coming along and lots of expenses. His new best friend sells him on the idea of joining the US Military - free medical, good income, career training, blah, blah, and blah.
This was so contrived you will not believe what happened next and father did not suspect a thing - ".....it had to have been circumstance.....". After all, father (like most liars) believed he was smarter than everyone else ... Unfortunately, that was both true and his eventual undoing.
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| Father with a customer at the Duncet |
This was so contrived you will not believe what happened next and father did not suspect a thing - ".....it had to have been circumstance.....". After all, father (like most liars) believed he was smarter than everyone else ... Unfortunately, that was both true and his eventual undoing.
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
Return To Germany
During father's free time in Portland, Oregon, he spent most of it visiting with mother's family on the houseboat. Grandmother thought him charming and often commented in her later years that he was quite the "talker", ie: "real smooth". Mother's brothers all hung with him and probably appreciated the male companionship, as their father had left them when they were all young. As for mother, well, if she had been mine, it would have been over the knee with her!
She is now 14 years old and decided that my father was "it" and father had no problems with that idea. But, he was after-all up for deportation.....
So, father was returned to Germany and faced court-martial hearings for his part in the mutiny of the SS Riviera. In the end, the court ruled the mutiny to have been justifiable - however, his role as the leader of the mutiny was found to be inexcusable - he was after-all a German officer. He was stripped of his captain's rank and removed from the seaman's listing. So, he would never sail again. It is interesting to note that they also had the power to remove his German Naval rank of Captain and did not do so. Which he spoke of with pride - at their backhanded approval of what he did.
Father returned to Buchholtz, to his wife Monika, Fritz and Irma. It must have been some reunion since my half-sister Martha was born in 1954. As to whatever happened in Buchholtz, father would never say. Fritz and Irma continued in their role as his friend and members of his "family". Monika was to continue to write him weekly for decades - leaving me to assume he was writing her back. And, again, one must remember that there was no divorce filed I could find in the German archives. Did father turn over his bank account to her to keep her happy? Even in his 80's he was still harping about having "lost" all of his money. Makes one wonder what the real truth was.....
Back in Portland, mother set herself to raising the $100 immigration fee for allowing father back into America - she was determined to get her "man". And let me tell you, when I found that out, me and Grandmother had a very long talk about where she had failed with my mother. But, what I did not know was that mother was - uhm - a bit of a problem child it seems.
She is now 14 years old and decided that my father was "it" and father had no problems with that idea. But, he was after-all up for deportation.....
So, father was returned to Germany and faced court-martial hearings for his part in the mutiny of the SS Riviera. In the end, the court ruled the mutiny to have been justifiable - however, his role as the leader of the mutiny was found to be inexcusable - he was after-all a German officer. He was stripped of his captain's rank and removed from the seaman's listing. So, he would never sail again. It is interesting to note that they also had the power to remove his German Naval rank of Captain and did not do so. Which he spoke of with pride - at their backhanded approval of what he did.
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| Father with Edi and Udi in Buchholz |
Back in Portland, mother set herself to raising the $100 immigration fee for allowing father back into America - she was determined to get her "man". And let me tell you, when I found that out, me and Grandmother had a very long talk about where she had failed with my mother. But, what I did not know was that mother was - uhm - a bit of a problem child it seems.
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
Internment, Again
So father and the surrendered German sailors were held in the Portland city jail for the mutiny. At some point, the city attorney figured out that Portland could not charge anyone with mutiny - which comes under international sailing law. But, the police did not want the German's released, so they turned the prisoners over to the Immigration and Naturalization Service, whom then held them for illegal entry into the United States (the act of diving off of the ship!). Which the Oregonian had a hay day with!
It turns out that father and five others could conceivably be charged with illegal entry. However, it was in the rescue of US citizens and a public relations nightmare for the Portland INS office. They were besieged with calls demanding the release of the German sailors.
At some point during this internment process, the Oregonian was able to bring enough public pressure on the INS that they released my father for a photo opportunity at the request of the newspaper, for one day. So, father was taken over to my grandmother's houseboat for a day with the Americans and the 13 year old girl he had saved (my mother).
This photo is from the original newspaper clipping my grandmother saved. However, the article has been lost. It would have been interesting to know what it said they all did that day! Other than have lunch.
In any event, this is one of the few photographs of father in his German officer's uniform and his ubiquitous pipe. Trimmed from the picture was the fact that he was wearing slippers as the INS would not allow the Germans to wear shoes since it was still thought they would run if given the opportunity. At the end of the day, the Germans involved in the rescue were returned back to INS for holding.
After several months of being held, the agent, family friend Bill White whom was in charge, managed to negotiate a release during the daytime for the Germans. After all, they had actually done nothing wrong and were model prisoners (compared apparently to others in the jail!). And, then there was the whole problem of the press not letting the story die. Father apparently spent most of his free time with grandmother's family and I have numerous pictures of him and my teenage uncles goofing off.
But, let us not forget the lawyers - whom were busy little beavers in the background. The strike was to be broken when the courts ruled that since there was no agreement between the US and German Seaman's Unions, the US longshoremen were involved in an illegal strike and ordered back to work. Completion of the inspection satisfied the insurance company so the ship could be released for repair and reloaded for return to India. The courts ruled that with no physical evidence concerning the death of the German sailor, and with no evidence of lack of provisions aboard the ship, the German sailors were deemed 'dissatisfied' and the owner ordered to return the sailors to their harbor of departure, to compensate them for their wages and release them from employment.
Father, however, was to be returned to Germany in chains.
It turns out that father and five others could conceivably be charged with illegal entry. However, it was in the rescue of US citizens and a public relations nightmare for the Portland INS office. They were besieged with calls demanding the release of the German sailors.
This photo is from the original newspaper clipping my grandmother saved. However, the article has been lost. It would have been interesting to know what it said they all did that day! Other than have lunch.
In any event, this is one of the few photographs of father in his German officer's uniform and his ubiquitous pipe. Trimmed from the picture was the fact that he was wearing slippers as the INS would not allow the Germans to wear shoes since it was still thought they would run if given the opportunity. At the end of the day, the Germans involved in the rescue were returned back to INS for holding.
After several months of being held, the agent, family friend Bill White whom was in charge, managed to negotiate a release during the daytime for the Germans. After all, they had actually done nothing wrong and were model prisoners (compared apparently to others in the jail!). And, then there was the whole problem of the press not letting the story die. Father apparently spent most of his free time with grandmother's family and I have numerous pictures of him and my teenage uncles goofing off.
But, let us not forget the lawyers - whom were busy little beavers in the background. The strike was to be broken when the courts ruled that since there was no agreement between the US and German Seaman's Unions, the US longshoremen were involved in an illegal strike and ordered back to work. Completion of the inspection satisfied the insurance company so the ship could be released for repair and reloaded for return to India. The courts ruled that with no physical evidence concerning the death of the German sailor, and with no evidence of lack of provisions aboard the ship, the German sailors were deemed 'dissatisfied' and the owner ordered to return the sailors to their harbor of departure, to compensate them for their wages and release them from employment.
Father, however, was to be returned to Germany in chains.
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
Father Meets My Mother
It is now fall. The Portland Shipyard has been on sympathetic strike for the mutinous sailors aboard the SS Riviera for three months. Everything is at a standstill save for the lawyers whom were busy in the background trying to break the strike and find some way to get control of the ship back from the crew.
My mother, then thirteen (13!) lived on the river in a houseboat built by my grandmother and several of her friends. Back then, there were many houseboats in the backwater areas of the Willamette River and over on the Columbia River as well.
It was a Saturday afternoon when a Coast Guard cutter came up the Willamette River, to warn river traffic of an approaching ship and to get out of the way. Apparently, this was standard procedure. Also on the river, that day, was my mother and her two brothers whom had build a raft and were trying to pole their way across the river. The raft had no chance against the hull of the cutter.
Father and several of the crew had been watching idly the progress of the raft and its impact with the cutter. It was obvious that the kids were going to drown, so several of the crew, including my father, dove into the river to rescue them. The kid my father reached first was to be my mother and he hauled her to shore.
Of course, the police had been on the docks and witnessed the accident, as were the press. It took the police a little while to make it from Swan Island to where the houseboats where below the bluffs. It took less time for the press to get the story to the Oregonian newspaper.
On the one hand, the police finally had the break they so desperately wanted - the ability to arrest the officer responsible for the stand off at the shipyards. On the other hand, the press not only was able to sing the praises of the brave Germans whom risked their lives in the rescue of three teenagers from drowning, but also the unfair treatment of the rescuers by the police. Anything for a story, eh?
In the end, twenty-four Germans surrendered to the police, the British crew remained on-board, the ship was allowed to empty its cargo, the captain was allowed access to his room where the crew files were to disappear (hence no murder charges could be brought against him), the required insurance inspection could occur and the lawyers were now into overtime!
Interestingly, the press went into overtime as well. They were not going to allow this story to be hushed up or just disappear. In fact, the Oregonian was probably the strongest reason for what was to occur did.
My mother, then thirteen (13!) lived on the river in a houseboat built by my grandmother and several of her friends. Back then, there were many houseboats in the backwater areas of the Willamette River and over on the Columbia River as well.
It was a Saturday afternoon when a Coast Guard cutter came up the Willamette River, to warn river traffic of an approaching ship and to get out of the way. Apparently, this was standard procedure. Also on the river, that day, was my mother and her two brothers whom had build a raft and were trying to pole their way across the river. The raft had no chance against the hull of the cutter.
Father and several of the crew had been watching idly the progress of the raft and its impact with the cutter. It was obvious that the kids were going to drown, so several of the crew, including my father, dove into the river to rescue them. The kid my father reached first was to be my mother and he hauled her to shore.
Of course, the police had been on the docks and witnessed the accident, as were the press. It took the police a little while to make it from Swan Island to where the houseboats where below the bluffs. It took less time for the press to get the story to the Oregonian newspaper.
On the one hand, the police finally had the break they so desperately wanted - the ability to arrest the officer responsible for the stand off at the shipyards. On the other hand, the press not only was able to sing the praises of the brave Germans whom risked their lives in the rescue of three teenagers from drowning, but also the unfair treatment of the rescuers by the police. Anything for a story, eh?
In the end, twenty-four Germans surrendered to the police, the British crew remained on-board, the ship was allowed to empty its cargo, the captain was allowed access to his room where the crew files were to disappear (hence no murder charges could be brought against him), the required insurance inspection could occur and the lawyers were now into overtime!
Interestingly, the press went into overtime as well. They were not going to allow this story to be hushed up or just disappear. In fact, the Oregonian was probably the strongest reason for what was to occur did.
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Seizing Control
The ship was docked at Swan Island, on the Willamette River, in Portland, Oregon. The Captain went ashore with the ship's papers and to arrange for the cargo unload - so that the required inspection could take place. The time to act against the Captain was now or never to the thinking of the crew and the gangplank was withdrawn from shore.
The Captain was outraged, no ship had been taken from a captain in modern history, and he called the police. The local longshoremen, of course, became interested in the police arrival and so came along to the dockside where the ship sat. Father made the formal charges against the Captain and negotiations began. Unfortunately, the police stance was drop the gangplank and father's demand was the arrest of the Captain. And so, a standoff which would last for months began.
Now the story becomes convoluted as, the Longshoreman's Union became involved. Since, this was a ship and the Seaman's Union seamen aboard were involved in a "strike" - the longshoremen blockaded the Portland facilities in sympathy. Now to join with them were the truckers and like dominoes eventually everyone was on strike in Portland.
The police were far from sympathetic with the entire situation, the Immigration and Naturalization Service became involved in demanding the release of the ship and the arrest of the "mutineers". The Oregonian newspaper, was the only real voice those on the ship had - and its paper ran numerous stories concerning the voyage and particulars.
However, the stand off was to change, as a human interest story was to grip the nation and father would meet my mother because of it ...
The Captain was outraged, no ship had been taken from a captain in modern history, and he called the police. The local longshoremen, of course, became interested in the police arrival and so came along to the dockside where the ship sat. Father made the formal charges against the Captain and negotiations began. Unfortunately, the police stance was drop the gangplank and father's demand was the arrest of the Captain. And so, a standoff which would last for months began.
Now the story becomes convoluted as, the Longshoreman's Union became involved. Since, this was a ship and the Seaman's Union seamen aboard were involved in a "strike" - the longshoremen blockaded the Portland facilities in sympathy. Now to join with them were the truckers and like dominoes eventually everyone was on strike in Portland.
The police were far from sympathetic with the entire situation, the Immigration and Naturalization Service became involved in demanding the release of the ship and the arrest of the "mutineers". The Oregonian newspaper, was the only real voice those on the ship had - and its paper ran numerous stories concerning the voyage and particulars.
However, the stand off was to change, as a human interest story was to grip the nation and father would meet my mother because of it ...
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
Sailing Into History
The SS Riviera returned back to India and father rejoined the crew, albeit with a very different face than what he had started the voyage with! And he found that life aboard ship had once again become of an explosive nature. You have to remember that he was third officer and the welfare of the crew was his duty.
The Captain, for some reason, had become dictatorial. Food rations had been cut. Salaries were cut. It was as if the Captain actually wanted a mutiny on his hands. The crew became belligerent and somewhere between India and the US, the Captain killed one of the German crew.
Probably the only thing which saved the situation, was the Indian Government filed a complaint concerning the physical condition of the vessel and the insurers of the ship ordered the Captain to report to the nearest shipyard for inspection. This was based upon father's random conversations with others during his recovery in India.
So, the Captain was forced to put into Portland, Oregon.
What was to follow was to become a part of Maritime history and US organized labor history, with lawsuits going all of the way to the US Supreme Court and a bit of an uproar back in Germany as well.
As for father - it was to be his capture by the US Government - he had so long dreaded and managed to dodge for eight years.
The Captain, for some reason, had become dictatorial. Food rations had been cut. Salaries were cut. It was as if the Captain actually wanted a mutiny on his hands. The crew became belligerent and somewhere between India and the US, the Captain killed one of the German crew.
Probably the only thing which saved the situation, was the Indian Government filed a complaint concerning the physical condition of the vessel and the insurers of the ship ordered the Captain to report to the nearest shipyard for inspection. This was based upon father's random conversations with others during his recovery in India.
So, the Captain was forced to put into Portland, Oregon.
What was to follow was to become a part of Maritime history and US organized labor history, with lawsuits going all of the way to the US Supreme Court and a bit of an uproar back in Germany as well.
As for father - it was to be his capture by the US Government - he had so long dreaded and managed to dodge for eight years.
Monday, August 2, 2010
India
The SS Riviera, rounded the Horn of Africa and sailed into the Indian Ocean. According to father those few miles the ship traversed around the Horn were quite exciting. Plenty of rough water and he said a great many questioned the old ship's ability to stay afloat!
Unlike the Atlantic, the Indian Ocean was much calmer and time could be spent working on repairing some of the worse of the deck rust. Apparently, they carried extra steel plates for such purposes and using hammers, banged out rust until metal could be found and then welded replacements in. Then, of course, all of those repairs needed to be painted. Everyone was kept quite busy!
Life aboard the ship was boring, card games flourished as did the friction between the British sailors and the Germans. By the time the ship made port in India the situation had become explosive. The ship made port at night, so ship's leave was to begin the following morning. Some of the of the British sailors took this opportunity to plan an attack on the most hated German and severely change his outlook on life - if not actually kill him.
They waited until he approached and then fell on him violently. Accordingly, they were horrified to discover that it was my father in the dark and not the seaman they sought to kill. Not that their guilt and apologies could change that the fact that father had taken multiple blows from a sap to the face.
The British sailors surrendered themselves to the captain, whom in turn, turned them over to the Indian police. Father had to be rushed to a hospital for what was to become a six month ordeal of facial reconstruction. And the ship left him in India as it went on its way around the Pacific delivering goods.
Back in India, father had time to think and wrote several letters to his mother. In return, he found out about having a new brother and sister, even sending the sister a basket of seashells from India for her seventh birthday. But, this was the last she was ever to hear from him. Interestingly, she still has to this day that basket of shells, kept on her dresser to remind her of the brother she never knew.
By now father was healing well, however, a large blood clot sat behind his sinuses and there was nothing the doctors of that day could do about this. A British surgeon commented to father that if he could go deep enough underwater, that the clot might be crushed and come out naturally. So, father tried it. There was a steel netted swim area, due to the local shark population, near by and perfect for what father needed.
It worked very well. Father said there was this 'thunk' inside his head and then blood everywhere. Also, there was in the same instance, a tiger shark trying to chew his way through the steel net to get at him! His description of what followed may have been the only time he ever walked on water, as he fled back to shore!
For this entire incident, father was compensated several tens of thousands of Marks in fines to the British sailors, from the Seaman's Union and from the shipping company, all added to his bank account back home. The British sailors were sent back to England in chains - for they had attacked an officer. And father was to continue to recover until the SS Riviera returned from the US with a load of wheat. With not much to do, father spent a great deal of time swimming (behind the nets!) and talking with those around the harbor.
His conversations were to land everyone in hot water, as you will learn.
Unlike the Atlantic, the Indian Ocean was much calmer and time could be spent working on repairing some of the worse of the deck rust. Apparently, they carried extra steel plates for such purposes and using hammers, banged out rust until metal could be found and then welded replacements in. Then, of course, all of those repairs needed to be painted. Everyone was kept quite busy!
Life aboard the ship was boring, card games flourished as did the friction between the British sailors and the Germans. By the time the ship made port in India the situation had become explosive. The ship made port at night, so ship's leave was to begin the following morning. Some of the of the British sailors took this opportunity to plan an attack on the most hated German and severely change his outlook on life - if not actually kill him.
They waited until he approached and then fell on him violently. Accordingly, they were horrified to discover that it was my father in the dark and not the seaman they sought to kill. Not that their guilt and apologies could change that the fact that father had taken multiple blows from a sap to the face.
The British sailors surrendered themselves to the captain, whom in turn, turned them over to the Indian police. Father had to be rushed to a hospital for what was to become a six month ordeal of facial reconstruction. And the ship left him in India as it went on its way around the Pacific delivering goods.
Back in India, father had time to think and wrote several letters to his mother. In return, he found out about having a new brother and sister, even sending the sister a basket of seashells from India for her seventh birthday. But, this was the last she was ever to hear from him. Interestingly, she still has to this day that basket of shells, kept on her dresser to remind her of the brother she never knew.
By now father was healing well, however, a large blood clot sat behind his sinuses and there was nothing the doctors of that day could do about this. A British surgeon commented to father that if he could go deep enough underwater, that the clot might be crushed and come out naturally. So, father tried it. There was a steel netted swim area, due to the local shark population, near by and perfect for what father needed.
It worked very well. Father said there was this 'thunk' inside his head and then blood everywhere. Also, there was in the same instance, a tiger shark trying to chew his way through the steel net to get at him! His description of what followed may have been the only time he ever walked on water, as he fled back to shore!
For this entire incident, father was compensated several tens of thousands of Marks in fines to the British sailors, from the Seaman's Union and from the shipping company, all added to his bank account back home. The British sailors were sent back to England in chains - for they had attacked an officer. And father was to continue to recover until the SS Riviera returned from the US with a load of wheat. With not much to do, father spent a great deal of time swimming (behind the nets!) and talking with those around the harbor.
His conversations were to land everyone in hot water, as you will learn.
Monday, July 26, 2010
The SS Riviera
Having regained his rank of Captain, father's first trip out was on the SS Riviera. Although father held the rank of Captain, he did not hold the position of ship's captain. Instead he was third officer - that would be the one responsible for the crew. The Captain and Second Officer were both British.
The crew was composed of ex-British soldiers and sailors, with a few German's thrown in as well. This detail will be come import later on - as there was more than just a little hostility between the two nationalities on board - at all levels.
Father had little good to say concerning the Riviera. Apparently it was quite an old US built Liberty Ship from the war, with a tremendous rust problem - which will crop up in this disastrous voyage later. A great deal of the crew's shipboard life revolved around painting over rust and securing plywood over holes in the deck. Yeah, not your safest ocean going trip it would seem! Ownership also was not quite what it seemed. Supposedly, it had a Liberian registry and therefore wages were quite low and conditions poor, in truth it was really Panamanian and conditions were to be compared to an ocean going sweatshop - by the US inspectors! But, none of this is important now, but will be later in this story.
In Rio de Janeiro, father was allowed the thrill of taking the ship out of port. Unfortunately, he forgot to order 'cast off' - so tore the dock off of the shore and pulled it a quarter mile out into the bay! He was terribly embarrassed but the captain thought it was one of the funnier things he had ever seen! I guess officially, the responsibility belonged to the highly liquored Brazilian pilot. So, his fault officially. But, father was a perfectionist and was still beating himself up decades later over this goof.
The voyage continued around the horn and onto India, the beginning of the end for father's naval career.
The crew was composed of ex-British soldiers and sailors, with a few German's thrown in as well. This detail will be come import later on - as there was more than just a little hostility between the two nationalities on board - at all levels.
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| SS Riviera 1946 |
In Rio de Janeiro, father was allowed the thrill of taking the ship out of port. Unfortunately, he forgot to order 'cast off' - so tore the dock off of the shore and pulled it a quarter mile out into the bay! He was terribly embarrassed but the captain thought it was one of the funnier things he had ever seen! I guess officially, the responsibility belonged to the highly liquored Brazilian pilot. So, his fault officially. But, father was a perfectionist and was still beating himself up decades later over this goof.
The voyage continued around the horn and onto India, the beginning of the end for father's naval career.
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
Ports o' Call
Wouldn't you just know it? I managed to loose father's highly fictionalize tome on his life. Which is unfortunate because his sea voyages were by and large accurate! Now I am stuck having to do this without his logs or pictures!
So, father was not able to get on a North Sea or Baltic based freighter, but instead made several voyages around the Atlantic Ocean for several years. Havana, Cuba and Rio de Janeiro, Brazil were all ports they put into regularly. Vera Cruz, Mexico was one of his favorites. Apparently, the ship ran fruits and vegetables into Bremerhaven for distribution throughout Germany.
In his log he told about how the women of Veracuz had to walk one direction around the city square, while the men walked the other way. I doubt this is still true, so much of tradition has been destroyed by modern western 'culture'. In Havana he was fascinated by watching the 'devil fish' - rays covering the bottom of the harbor. In Rio, well, it is Rio after all and lived up to its reputation of being a moral abyss. However, he did hold the distinction of destroying the dock by not ordering the ropes cast off before putting the metal to the pedal, so to speak.
And, what became of Monika? No idea, absolute silence from him about this period and from Uncle Fritz and Aunt Irma as well. Mum was the word! However, I believe that Monika's daughter was born in 1954. So, obviously she was still in the scene and playing house - I imagine with my uncle and aunt were very involved in her life. I also know that nothing was ever told to father's family about Monika - more than likely due to her being Jewish and I also know his family never heard a whisper about his conversion. But, in his later writings he mentioned her by code name quite often and was very much on his mind during his later years.
And when in Bremerhaven, father was busy. He started as a steward to the captain and each time in Bremerhaven, worked on regaining his status as a Captain through the Seaman's Union. By 1951 he accomplished his task - a Captain's rating and time to ship out on an around the world cruise - the first of many he hoped. But, the voyage was destined to become an international incident, which ended not only with him becoming extremely wealthy in post-war terms (for a very short period of time), but also a prisoner of the US Government.
What he feared most was exactly what was about to happen..... And I will save that tale for next time.
So, father was not able to get on a North Sea or Baltic based freighter, but instead made several voyages around the Atlantic Ocean for several years. Havana, Cuba and Rio de Janeiro, Brazil were all ports they put into regularly. Vera Cruz, Mexico was one of his favorites. Apparently, the ship ran fruits and vegetables into Bremerhaven for distribution throughout Germany.
In his log he told about how the women of Veracuz had to walk one direction around the city square, while the men walked the other way. I doubt this is still true, so much of tradition has been destroyed by modern western 'culture'. In Havana he was fascinated by watching the 'devil fish' - rays covering the bottom of the harbor. In Rio, well, it is Rio after all and lived up to its reputation of being a moral abyss. However, he did hold the distinction of destroying the dock by not ordering the ropes cast off before putting the metal to the pedal, so to speak.
And, what became of Monika? No idea, absolute silence from him about this period and from Uncle Fritz and Aunt Irma as well. Mum was the word! However, I believe that Monika's daughter was born in 1954. So, obviously she was still in the scene and playing house - I imagine with my uncle and aunt were very involved in her life. I also know that nothing was ever told to father's family about Monika - more than likely due to her being Jewish and I also know his family never heard a whisper about his conversion. But, in his later writings he mentioned her by code name quite often and was very much on his mind during his later years.
And when in Bremerhaven, father was busy. He started as a steward to the captain and each time in Bremerhaven, worked on regaining his status as a Captain through the Seaman's Union. By 1951 he accomplished his task - a Captain's rating and time to ship out on an around the world cruise - the first of many he hoped. But, the voyage was destined to become an international incident, which ended not only with him becoming extremely wealthy in post-war terms (for a very short period of time), but also a prisoner of the US Government.
What he feared most was exactly what was about to happen..... And I will save that tale for next time.
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
Seaman's Union
Father left Monika in Hamburg and traveled to Bremerhaven by horse drawn freight wagon to apply for openings on any form of shipping. He was to discover an entirely new world - one of politics.
First off, he was young, too young for the rank he claimed to hold. Fear of being arrested and turned over to the Americans for execution held him back from making a pain of himself at the Union. He needed a job, not arrested, nor dead.
Father would not talk much about his time between leaving Hamburg and shipping out on his first voyage. He did not have enough money with him, nor could he get funds from his bank in Hamburg. He like many other would be post-war German sailors, lived on and off of the streets. Picking up random day labor jobs - for nothing more than food or a blanket if you were lucky.
Apparently, one of the captains took pity on him and hired him as a personal steward boy. And father was off to sea and on to bigger changes than he had so far encountered in his life!
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| Bremerhaven was quite a mess. |
Father would not talk much about his time between leaving Hamburg and shipping out on his first voyage. He did not have enough money with him, nor could he get funds from his bank in Hamburg. He like many other would be post-war German sailors, lived on and off of the streets. Picking up random day labor jobs - for nothing more than food or a blanket if you were lucky.
Apparently, one of the captains took pity on him and hired him as a personal steward boy. And father was off to sea and on to bigger changes than he had so far encountered in his life!
Monday, July 5, 2010
Hamburg - A Little History
I have mentioned the firebombing of Hamburg several times so far. So, now seems to be a point to stop and show what my father was surrounded by.
42,000 were reported dead from the fire, 37,000 injured, over 1,000,000 left homeless, half of all buildings destroyed in the city. This was the price borne by the population of Hamburg. Net result? War materials productions was stopped for one week and capacity reduced by 10%. No, it was not manufacturing targeted, the British purposefully bombed the compact housing areas of the ordinary worker - for maximum damage and death tolls (well documented in even Britain's archives).
When people challenge me, as a Hutterite, as to my pacifism - I have to point no further than to Dresden and Hamburg, not to even mention other cities whom were also on the receiving side of the Allied cause of firebombing "strategic" targets.....
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| Hamburg during the firebombing. |
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| Photo taken soon after the fire. |
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| Population returning to the remains of Hamburg. |
42,000 were reported dead from the fire, 37,000 injured, over 1,000,000 left homeless, half of all buildings destroyed in the city. This was the price borne by the population of Hamburg. Net result? War materials productions was stopped for one week and capacity reduced by 10%. No, it was not manufacturing targeted, the British purposefully bombed the compact housing areas of the ordinary worker - for maximum damage and death tolls (well documented in even Britain's archives).
When people challenge me, as a Hutterite, as to my pacifism - I have to point no further than to Dresden and Hamburg, not to even mention other cities whom were also on the receiving side of the Allied cause of firebombing "strategic" targets.....
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Physical Labor
Few Americans realize that World War II did not really end until 1957, with the surrender of the last SS unit operating as a terrorist group in the Austrian and Bavarian Alps, against American targets. Up north, it was 1946 now and another story. The war was over and the rebuilding of Germany was to commence. The only fighting was verbal between the British, Canadian and Americans - and then again, collectively against the Russians on the east bank of the Elbe River.
Fritz and Irma had been wealthy before the war. He was an architect and a decent investor. However, the banks were gone, the Deutschmark devalued and any bank balances decreased by 90% automatically. They were wiped out, but at least they still had something to pull from in an economy where cash ruled - as few had it. And luckily for them, there was a real need for architects.
Father was able to get a job as a day laborer for basically starvation wages, especially considering that he now had a wife to support. Hamburg had been flattened and the entire infrastructure had to be replaced. You also must realize that by the time of father's capture he was more dead than alive. The regular meals from working on the farms had helped him to recover somewhat, however he had little muscle to rely on and he really had need of them!
Ditches needed to be dug for sewers, water supply and gas pipelines - there was little machinery to do the jobs. Roads rebuilt, factories restored, apartment complexes built, everything everywhere had to be replaced. So the work was there but the economics were not. There was nowhere to live other than the street and a day's labor provide little enough food for one - much less two. Then there was the question of being able to find food for sale in the first place. And father was stuck as he had no real skills for this labor market.
Something had to change and father had few resources in his favor. He held a mathematics doctorate, however the university was gone and little need for instructors anywhere. He could go over to the Americans under the Operation Paperclip offer to German scientists, but he still believed he would be executed, if he did. The British and Canadians had no use for him, nor did the Germans for that matter. His education had left him fluent in French, 5 forms of German and English. So on weekends he was able to hold down a job as a waiter. Notice in the photo that he is 6'1" tall and weighed all of 96 pounds at the time! Interestingly, at the table is Uncle Fritz; I assume the dress is attached to his wife Irma.
In the local paper one day he saw an advertisement for seaman needed immediately for shipping out of Bremerhaven. And so he had to take a chance and identify himself as a Captain in the now defunct German Navy, in hopes of at least being able to feed his wife. As I mentioned earlier, how he acquired his commission, much less in the Navy, is beyond my knowledge. Yet, he had managed it during the war and as a teenager to boot.
His hope was a posting on a North Sea freighter.....
Fritz and Irma had been wealthy before the war. He was an architect and a decent investor. However, the banks were gone, the Deutschmark devalued and any bank balances decreased by 90% automatically. They were wiped out, but at least they still had something to pull from in an economy where cash ruled - as few had it. And luckily for them, there was a real need for architects.
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| Drilling a new well, father center. |
Ditches needed to be dug for sewers, water supply and gas pipelines - there was little machinery to do the jobs. Roads rebuilt, factories restored, apartment complexes built, everything everywhere had to be replaced. So the work was there but the economics were not. There was nowhere to live other than the street and a day's labor provide little enough food for one - much less two. Then there was the question of being able to find food for sale in the first place. And father was stuck as he had no real skills for this labor market.
In the local paper one day he saw an advertisement for seaman needed immediately for shipping out of Bremerhaven. And so he had to take a chance and identify himself as a Captain in the now defunct German Navy, in hopes of at least being able to feed his wife. As I mentioned earlier, how he acquired his commission, much less in the Navy, is beyond my knowledge. Yet, he had managed it during the war and as a teenager to boot.
His hope was a posting on a North Sea freighter.....
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Monika
I know very little about Monika. I know she was Jewish and had been a prisoner at the Wöbbelin labor camp outside of Hamburg. Her presence here means she had been originally held in the Auschwitz complex, and was one of the 10,000 women transferred to Wöbbelin. Seems there had been a female uprising at Auschwitz, with one of the oven buildings destroyed by smuggled munitions being dumped into it. Those whom could be identified as complicit with the bombing were executed, others scattered to various camps. Further, her presence in Auschwitz, meant she was originally from a conquered territory. Dutch, French, or even a Sudetenland Jew are all possibilities. Since she stayed in Germany after the war, I will go with her being a Sudetenland German Jew.
These were the only women to have been at Wöbbelin. I know that father met her here.
In my research I have managed to find exactly 5 photos of females whom were held at Wöbbelin; three of them are of the same woman. Quite photogenic considering what she had gone through and young. If anything, father was always drawn to light haired, small, young women. Could this have been Monika? Absolutely no idea, but given father's taste in women, a darn good candidate. As you will see for yourself much later in my postings, ALL of father's wives were not so far removed from this young lady's appearance. Too much coincidence here for me to believe! I think he kept marrying Monika.
I have mentioned already that father was haunted by what the SS had done at Middelbau-Dora and Nordhausen, and what he saw. I sincerely doubt father had much interaction with the prisoner population, other than the prisoner scientists. But, he probably "knew" many whom were working on the A-9/V-3 project.
So, father is fleeing from the advancing Soviet Army and expects to find shelter at the underground complex. Only, everyone is dead. Well, the prison population anyways, the Germans were long gone. People he "knew" and saw daily had been gunned down, some had been hung. On the road in he had to have traveled, he would have come across the smoldering remains of a barn which had been stuffed with the "final solution" helpers - some 1,016 prisoners whom had helped and were rewarded with the fiery death of a barn burning by their SS keepers and those whom got out were gunned down as well.
At Nordhausen, where the scientist prisoners had been housed, the camp had been deserted. Hundreds of bodies lay where they had been felled. And we will look at this later on.
But, point is, these were the Jews. He saw first hand the Reich's ruthlessness in dealing with the Jewish question. It was not a matter of killing those whom could help their enemies, which he could have understood. No, it was killing Jews, because of who they were. Genocide was a new concept for him to come to terms with as a teenager in the camp. In all honesty, he never was able to understand how his Fuhrer could have done this - "..... no, this must have been on orders from someone in the General Staff....". Always protecting the Fuhrer.....
And then he was to meet a Jewish girl, one of the prisoners for her faith, and discovered that maybe Jews were human after all. And knowing the way in which my father thought, he saw in her his ability to atone for what his chosen country had done. He married her.
But, first he had to convert to Judaism himself, a Rabbi found - whom were a little scarce by this time and he had to have some form of support. I like to think of her as sort of a female version of Daniel, standing for her faith even in the ruins of her life. I will talk about these things later.
And he did convert, did marry and you guessed it - later abandoned Monika.
I only knew her through her letters. She wrote father weekly, through the entirety of my young life. She lived in Frankfurt and that was about all I can say. When the internet became a reality, I spent many hours a year sifting through all of the Monika's living in the Frankfurt area and eventually did find her - about three months after she had died. She had never remarried, which I found a little interesting - until I realized there had never been a divorce filing!
I also found she had a daughter, my half sister, and was very surprised she had been named for father's mother. I thought about striking up a long distance relationship with her - but to what end? What can you say to someone whom shared the same father, and she had been too young to even have a memory of him? "Hi, I am your half brother and never knew our father either." Yeah. I am guessing the daughter was told he had died. It would have been far more comforting than the truth.
And I know, as a post-war child of Germany myself, there were darn few children and even fewer men in my village. No reason to assume Frankfurt was any different. One thing war is good for is leaving a lot of widows and fatherless children behind.
So, if you are reading this and you are of Hebrew extraction, named Martha, had a mother named Monika - email me!
These were the only women to have been at Wöbbelin. I know that father met her here.
I have mentioned already that father was haunted by what the SS had done at Middelbau-Dora and Nordhausen, and what he saw. I sincerely doubt father had much interaction with the prisoner population, other than the prisoner scientists. But, he probably "knew" many whom were working on the A-9/V-3 project.
So, father is fleeing from the advancing Soviet Army and expects to find shelter at the underground complex. Only, everyone is dead. Well, the prison population anyways, the Germans were long gone. People he "knew" and saw daily had been gunned down, some had been hung. On the road in he had to have traveled, he would have come across the smoldering remains of a barn which had been stuffed with the "final solution" helpers - some 1,016 prisoners whom had helped and were rewarded with the fiery death of a barn burning by their SS keepers and those whom got out were gunned down as well.
At Nordhausen, where the scientist prisoners had been housed, the camp had been deserted. Hundreds of bodies lay where they had been felled. And we will look at this later on.
But, point is, these were the Jews. He saw first hand the Reich's ruthlessness in dealing with the Jewish question. It was not a matter of killing those whom could help their enemies, which he could have understood. No, it was killing Jews, because of who they were. Genocide was a new concept for him to come to terms with as a teenager in the camp. In all honesty, he never was able to understand how his Fuhrer could have done this - "..... no, this must have been on orders from someone in the General Staff....". Always protecting the Fuhrer.....
And then he was to meet a Jewish girl, one of the prisoners for her faith, and discovered that maybe Jews were human after all. And knowing the way in which my father thought, he saw in her his ability to atone for what his chosen country had done. He married her.
But, first he had to convert to Judaism himself, a Rabbi found - whom were a little scarce by this time and he had to have some form of support. I like to think of her as sort of a female version of Daniel, standing for her faith even in the ruins of her life. I will talk about these things later.
And he did convert, did marry and you guessed it - later abandoned Monika.
I only knew her through her letters. She wrote father weekly, through the entirety of my young life. She lived in Frankfurt and that was about all I can say. When the internet became a reality, I spent many hours a year sifting through all of the Monika's living in the Frankfurt area and eventually did find her - about three months after she had died. She had never remarried, which I found a little interesting - until I realized there had never been a divorce filing!
I also found she had a daughter, my half sister, and was very surprised she had been named for father's mother. I thought about striking up a long distance relationship with her - but to what end? What can you say to someone whom shared the same father, and she had been too young to even have a memory of him? "Hi, I am your half brother and never knew our father either." Yeah. I am guessing the daughter was told he had died. It would have been far more comforting than the truth.
And I know, as a post-war child of Germany myself, there were darn few children and even fewer men in my village. No reason to assume Frankfurt was any different. One thing war is good for is leaving a lot of widows and fatherless children behind.
So, if you are reading this and you are of Hebrew extraction, named Martha, had a mother named Monika - email me!
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
Wöbbelin
To me, it is almost a sacrilege to even add comments to these pictures of the Wöbbelin Concentration Camp. As a German, I have been appalled by the actions of my countrymen. Lots of excuses but no sound reasons for what they did, save for as a group, they abandoned their Lutheran upbringing to cause chaos and destruction on a scale I hope to never encounter again in my lifetime.
I post these in hopes that by knowing what happened, you too will strive to do what you can to see that politicians are never again trusted with sufficient power to ever repeat what was done to Europe from 1933 to 1948.
I post these in hopes that by knowing what happened, you too will strive to do what you can to see that politicians are never again trusted with sufficient power to ever repeat what was done to Europe from 1933 to 1948.
*****
On May 2, 1945, the 8th Infantry Division and the 82nd Airborne Division encountered Wöbbelin. Living conditions in the camp when the U.S. 8th Infantry and the 82nd Airborne arrived were deplorable. There was little food or water and some prisoners had resorted to cannibalism. When the units arrived, they found about 1,000 inmates dead in the camp. In the aftermath, the U.S. Army ordered the townspeople in Ludwigslust to visit the camp and bury the dead.
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| 200 Found Dead in 1 Barracks |
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| The Dead and the Dying Found Together |
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| Compulsory Viewing |
On May 7, 1945, the 82nd Airborne Division conducted funeral services for 200 inmates in the town of Ludwigslust. Attending the ceremony were citizens of Ludwigslust, captured German officers, and several hundred members of the airborne division. The U.S. Army chaplain at the service delivered a eulogy stating that:
"The crimes here committed in the name of the German people and by their acquiescence were minor compared to those to be found in concentration camps elsewhere in Germany. Here there were no gas chambers, no crematoria; these men of Holland, Russia, Poland, Czechoslovakia, and France were simply allowed to starve to death. Within four miles of your comfortable homes 4,000 men were forced to live like animals, deprived even of the food you would give to your dogs. In three weeks 1,000 of these men were starved to death; 800 of them were buried in pits in the nearby woods. These 200 who lie before us in these graves were found piled four and five feet high in one building and lying with the sick and dying in other buildings."
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| The Funeral Service |
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| The 200 Graves |
The death register at Neuengamme indicates that about 40,000 prisoners died in the camp by April 10, 1945. Perhaps as many as 15,000 more died in the camp in the following week and during the course of the evacuation. In all, more than 50,000 prisoners, almost half of all those imprisoned in the camp complex during its existence, died.
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| Beds made of barbed wire, rags and straw |
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| Forced labor |
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| The Survivors..... |
This is the heritage, the legacy, left to those of us whom are the next generation of Germans. Yeah, try growing up as a child in a country destroyed by war, a heritage of racism and an occupation force willing to make your life miserable because your forefathers deserved execution. Yeah, as a child, it was galling.
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
Uncle Fritz' Story
Fritz returned from the North Africa POW camp and so was well documented by the British already. He had been a SS colonel under Field Marshall Rommel. Somewhere, I have a photo of him with Rommel, standing by a half track vehicle watching a tank battle from the first El Alamein battle. Fritz actually had two claims to fame from his North African campaign, both involving El Alamein.
First, he had come up with an idea of using trucks at night to shift dead tanks around. The German Army had run out of diesel so many of the tanks were inoperable. By shifting the tanks it kept the Allies guessing at actual tank strength and held back the British and American forces long enough for Germany to remove some of their men and supplies. (Supporting his idea, the Italians had come up with the idea of hauling a wheeled axle around at night so that there would be tracks in the shifting sands to make it look like there was much more activity going on at night!
Second, he had cautioned General Stumme, not to execute Rommel's complete orders - which would have led not only to a slaughter of the Allied advance but harsh reprisals against the Germans in their retreat for the survivors. Fritz had been planning the retreat and surrender for months and indeed the Germans had been shifting important operations back to their base in Tunisia.
And, why you ask would an SS Colonel be thinking this way? Seems not all SS were completely evil nor equal in their politics.....
Fritz was from Hamburg. Under the German confederation, Hamburg was a Free State. Yes, it was a member of the German community, but it was free from the national politics, interests, etc of the German State. Once Hitler had seized power, one of his first moves was against the Free States, of which there were many. Hence, the residents of Hamburg believed themselves to be prisoners of war and unwilling participants to the war. And so, Fritz, was not only smart enough to know that in a battle, where you are out numbered two to one by your enemy, your supply lines are hundreds of miles long, and you have NO fuel - you are going to lose. He also hated the Nazi's.
The first Battle of El Alamein had already proven the Germans had no hope of capturing the fuel fields. The continued build up of the Allied Forces only shifted the inevitable further into the realm of an Allied victory.
He told me it was his greatest joy to surrender and end his part in supporting Germany's war, as well as, saving as many lives as he could - on both sides. However, it was his greatest sorrow to hear of the firebombing of Hamburg (an innocent captive city to the Nazi's, per him) and not knowing if his family survived or not.
I had always held a belief in Rommel as being perhaps one of the greatest German leaders, certainly of WWII in any event. And Fritz agreed to a point. But, his breaking point came when Rommel's complete orders for the taking of El Alamein included the command to fight to the death for each and every soldier. Rommel expected the North African Army to commit suicide rather than retreat. For that, Fritz lost all respect for Rommel and held that Stumme's willingness to stare facts in the face and listen to reason made him by far the greater German.
I remember commenting to Friz that he ought to have been awarded medals by the Americans and Brits for his effort, if he had told them the role he played. The man actually turned white, broke out in a sweat and commented that he would have been killed, had something like that even have been suggested! And a year later I was to find why and exactly how powerful the post-war SS organization still was.
In any event, the fact that Fritz was documented - allowed for the release of his wife, her release allowed for my father's, and his release allowed for Monika's. And this little group of refugees were returned to the cindered remains of Hamburg.
First, he had come up with an idea of using trucks at night to shift dead tanks around. The German Army had run out of diesel so many of the tanks were inoperable. By shifting the tanks it kept the Allies guessing at actual tank strength and held back the British and American forces long enough for Germany to remove some of their men and supplies. (Supporting his idea, the Italians had come up with the idea of hauling a wheeled axle around at night so that there would be tracks in the shifting sands to make it look like there was much more activity going on at night!
Second, he had cautioned General Stumme, not to execute Rommel's complete orders - which would have led not only to a slaughter of the Allied advance but harsh reprisals against the Germans in their retreat for the survivors. Fritz had been planning the retreat and surrender for months and indeed the Germans had been shifting important operations back to their base in Tunisia.
And, why you ask would an SS Colonel be thinking this way? Seems not all SS were completely evil nor equal in their politics.....
Fritz was from Hamburg. Under the German confederation, Hamburg was a Free State. Yes, it was a member of the German community, but it was free from the national politics, interests, etc of the German State. Once Hitler had seized power, one of his first moves was against the Free States, of which there were many. Hence, the residents of Hamburg believed themselves to be prisoners of war and unwilling participants to the war. And so, Fritz, was not only smart enough to know that in a battle, where you are out numbered two to one by your enemy, your supply lines are hundreds of miles long, and you have NO fuel - you are going to lose. He also hated the Nazi's.
The first Battle of El Alamein had already proven the Germans had no hope of capturing the fuel fields. The continued build up of the Allied Forces only shifted the inevitable further into the realm of an Allied victory.
He told me it was his greatest joy to surrender and end his part in supporting Germany's war, as well as, saving as many lives as he could - on both sides. However, it was his greatest sorrow to hear of the firebombing of Hamburg (an innocent captive city to the Nazi's, per him) and not knowing if his family survived or not.
I had always held a belief in Rommel as being perhaps one of the greatest German leaders, certainly of WWII in any event. And Fritz agreed to a point. But, his breaking point came when Rommel's complete orders for the taking of El Alamein included the command to fight to the death for each and every soldier. Rommel expected the North African Army to commit suicide rather than retreat. For that, Fritz lost all respect for Rommel and held that Stumme's willingness to stare facts in the face and listen to reason made him by far the greater German.
I remember commenting to Friz that he ought to have been awarded medals by the Americans and Brits for his effort, if he had told them the role he played. The man actually turned white, broke out in a sweat and commented that he would have been killed, had something like that even have been suggested! And a year later I was to find why and exactly how powerful the post-war SS organization still was.
In any event, the fact that Fritz was documented - allowed for the release of his wife, her release allowed for my father's, and his release allowed for Monika's. And this little group of refugees were returned to the cindered remains of Hamburg.
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
The Internment Population
The internment population of the Wöbbelin repatronization camp, outside of Hamburg, had to have been very interesting. First, you had refugees from the complete destruction of Hamburg via its firebombing. Then you had captured soldiers. And, finally, there were people like father whom were caught fleeing the Russian advance.
For those of you whom do not know of what life was like during the Cold War:
So, it was very hard to mine the information about father, except for what he was willing to talk about. And, talk he did but on things he should have had NO knowledge of.
Which brings us to the point that he must have been able to gain a great deal of knowledge during his internment years from first hand witnesses.
Case in point is knowledge of Breslau. This an old German city in what is now Wroclaw, Poland. Father decided that this was the city of his birth - since he was able to learn of the destruction of both the University and the city hall (along with all records). This allowed him to begin to fabricate a new identity. You have to remember he was still convinced that he would be turned over to the Americans and executed. And Poland did not exist back then. So, safety for him - with a story which could never be verified.
Someone in either the British or the Canadian camp had to have been from Breslau. Someone whom was released early on and someone whose identity father then stole. This will come up again much later and you will find what happened about as appalling as I.
Also amongst this crowd were some number of SS troops whom were in hiding. Unknown to most Americans, SS troops were executed without trial by the Americans under the direct orders of then General Eisenhower. Were it not for the eventual Canadian protests before the League of Nations, no SS staff would have ever survived their capture. I am not arguing what Eisenhower did was "wrong" - the SS were a brutal group whom took life lightly and had dedicated their lives to the Fuhrer - in fact, many did not surrender and continued the fight into 1957! But, it would still be nice to have a trial so guilt could first be established, and then execute them. More on this later as well.
So father learned all of the SS trivia, all of the songs, all of the stories of what had been going on. Some of this had a great impact on father - he had after all stumbled upon the remains of his old posting involving Nordhausen and Mittelbau-Dora/Buchenwald concentration camps. He learned about the cold winters outside of Leningrad and the building by building siege and battles. And what worked or did not work in German armament during those long Russian winters. All of this began to form the background of his new identity.
He also learned, from those fleeing from the east, the existence of the Soviet execution squads whom were patrolling and executing those found in the area to the east of the Elbe River. I really do not believe he had encountered these patrols since his three friends never told similar stories. So, again, gaining information to help with his new identity.
And all of this knowledge not only laid a groundwork to hide his true identity but also was to become his own truth. As later in life he could no longer remember which story he had told to whom or even what was actually true ...
There was one other population group in the camp, they had been there since before the British had liberated the camp - they were the Jews whom had been rounded up from elsewhere in Germany. One of them was to soon be his bride.....
For those of you whom do not know of what life was like during the Cold War:
- There was no internet nor its abundant supply of information available
- Most of the documents captured by the Soviets were held until just recently.
- Britain and Canada sealed their repatronization files and are still not available.
- The Red Cross lost most of its European documents in the bombings.
- Even the Lutheran Church's records were sparse beyond just names of people and towns.
So, it was very hard to mine the information about father, except for what he was willing to talk about. And, talk he did but on things he should have had NO knowledge of.
Which brings us to the point that he must have been able to gain a great deal of knowledge during his internment years from first hand witnesses.
Case in point is knowledge of Breslau. This an old German city in what is now Wroclaw, Poland. Father decided that this was the city of his birth - since he was able to learn of the destruction of both the University and the city hall (along with all records). This allowed him to begin to fabricate a new identity. You have to remember he was still convinced that he would be turned over to the Americans and executed. And Poland did not exist back then. So, safety for him - with a story which could never be verified.
Someone in either the British or the Canadian camp had to have been from Breslau. Someone whom was released early on and someone whose identity father then stole. This will come up again much later and you will find what happened about as appalling as I.
Also amongst this crowd were some number of SS troops whom were in hiding. Unknown to most Americans, SS troops were executed without trial by the Americans under the direct orders of then General Eisenhower. Were it not for the eventual Canadian protests before the League of Nations, no SS staff would have ever survived their capture. I am not arguing what Eisenhower did was "wrong" - the SS were a brutal group whom took life lightly and had dedicated their lives to the Fuhrer - in fact, many did not surrender and continued the fight into 1957! But, it would still be nice to have a trial so guilt could first be established, and then execute them. More on this later as well.
So father learned all of the SS trivia, all of the songs, all of the stories of what had been going on. Some of this had a great impact on father - he had after all stumbled upon the remains of his old posting involving Nordhausen and Mittelbau-Dora/Buchenwald concentration camps. He learned about the cold winters outside of Leningrad and the building by building siege and battles. And what worked or did not work in German armament during those long Russian winters. All of this began to form the background of his new identity.
He also learned, from those fleeing from the east, the existence of the Soviet execution squads whom were patrolling and executing those found in the area to the east of the Elbe River. I really do not believe he had encountered these patrols since his three friends never told similar stories. So, again, gaining information to help with his new identity.
And all of this knowledge not only laid a groundwork to hide his true identity but also was to become his own truth. As later in life he could no longer remember which story he had told to whom or even what was actually true ...
There was one other population group in the camp, they had been there since before the British had liberated the camp - they were the Jews whom had been rounded up from elsewhere in Germany. One of them was to soon be his bride.....
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