The little blog has been my way of putting some of father's story down, admittedly as a way for me to work through my own angst over his death and our complete lack of relationship.
And, the responses have run in the hundreds of emails to me! The majority are from historical revisionists claiming that the Holocaust never occurred. The one I would like to have gotten would have been from Martha, outside of Hamburg, my unknown half sister. Yes, I hope in vain to at least ease lack of memory should she have thought others knew her father and perhaps connect her with father's family in Switzerland.
I find the entire historical revisionist movement disturbing. First, there is some truth to what they claim. Yes, 6.5 million Jews did die, however the evidence of their systematic execution is weak. Much of the photograph material we have of executions were actually Ukrainian peasants - whom had the Germans treated decently would have joined forced against the Russians! Rather shortsighted there Hitler. Much of the evidence concerning the Holocaust comes from the Russians and it has been scientifically proven they manufactured evidences for the Nuremberg Trials. Building were modified at Auschwitz to fit their story line, again proven. However, there is the question of the 55,000 Hungarian Jews, whose end were documented ad nauseum by the Germans: from their capture through to their execution in Poland a week later. Every step, every detail, all photographed step by step.
So, a revisionist may argue against all systematic arguments against the Holocaust, but you are stuck with the 55,000 Hungarians. And if you want to argue that it was an anomaly, fine, but it is still genocide. You lose.
Okay, so the next series - when I have time - I will be posting is the Holocaust from Germany's own documentation made at the time by the Nazi's. None of this is from Russian sources, it is all Western German captured paperwork. Then I will publish the Hungarian photos.
I have also deleted this blog at least four times, this is a memory I do not cherish. However, again response has been overwhelming to have it restored each time, over 900 this last time! So what you have read to this point is restoration 4! For some reason there is a strong interest in stories of the war, from a first person perspective. Admittedly, I find enjoyment that my father was at the Dresden Firebombing and lived to tell the tale of the US fighters strafing the fleeing civilians. Why? Because that story was told at the time and no one believed it then, the pilots all denied it. And yet, even the Russians filed the same complaint - whose forward observers had been strafed as well! So, the Russians testified to this, the Germans testified to this, my own father could back it up with the damage down to the family estate outside of Dresden where he had run across a balcony and the terracotta shot up by the fighters as they wheeled around to fly across Dresden again. And western history says this did not happen. So whom are you going to believe? Witnesses? Victims? Or the pilots whom would have faced charges were it found to be true at the time? And that is what makes eyewitness accounts so inconvenient - it contradicts the testimony of the victors.
Like the Holocaust, the further we move from that time period, the harder some facts become to be believed, while others completely become reasonable.
Monday, March 28, 2011
Monday, March 21, 2011
In Memory Of
He survived the bombing of Dresden and told the politically incorrect truth, that is not a part of our "history". He saw the mass murder of the scientific laborers by the tens of thousands. He survived the Russian onslaught against his chosen homeland, at one point, only by playing dead.
He knew starvation as he fled with three others on his team from the Russians and American forces to surrender to the British. He knew what it was to be a prisoner of war and to be prison labor. He learned the hard truth of what freedom really meant and at what cost.
Although, as a mathematician he only understood facts and data, and I an artist, we agreed on virtually nothing across our lifetimes, except food. So different from me, that by second grade I was sure I was adopted!
As I stood at Fort Logan National Cemetery this week, and looked upon that tiny plot of ground, I could not help but think of both the good and bad he had represented. The beginning and end to so much of history. And all of the what ifs......
But, he was my father.
Monday, March 14, 2011
Legacy
I was raised in European schools. They will forever be best remembered for their blatant violence against a young man whom really did not understand what the heck was going on..... One of the lessons I remember well, because it gave me cause to stop and think, was on the topic of: "what is going to be your LEGACY?".
A legacy? Why on earth would I even care what people thought of me when I was long dead and gone? As the years have passed, I have sort of figured out that I might like to be remembered by those I have successfully fathered, those I have discipled, those I have mentored. Hmmmm.....
By the same token I can remember my father speaking on the topic a legacy, probably as I was trying to figure this whole idea out. He seemed to think this was important at the time.
Of course, I have been rereading father's enormous highly fictionalized autobiography and the thought keeps coming to my mind, "Why did he write certain stories the way he did? Why did he ignore certain stories or split others into separate events or even worse, why did he combine stories?" Yeah, he created quite a work of fiction and I just do not understand. Some of his stories I had forgotten and others I remembered extremely well - so I know they were wrong.
By the time the tales are over, one is left with the question of LEGACY.
Apparently, he did want to leave one. But his complete ignoring of any of this children, other than one step-son, makes you wonder. Even, Sommer, the golden girl - did not get as many mentions as bathroom humor.
A man whom was at the creation of 20th century history, blew off that history so as to be politically correct in the end, and those of his descendants, he left with nothing.
I am not suggesting that you must worry about leaving your descendants anything but you might want to think about it - in terms of history and truth.....
That should be the basis of any of our legacies.
A legacy? Why on earth would I even care what people thought of me when I was long dead and gone? As the years have passed, I have sort of figured out that I might like to be remembered by those I have successfully fathered, those I have discipled, those I have mentored. Hmmmm.....
By the same token I can remember my father speaking on the topic a legacy, probably as I was trying to figure this whole idea out. He seemed to think this was important at the time.
Of course, I have been rereading father's enormous highly fictionalized autobiography and the thought keeps coming to my mind, "Why did he write certain stories the way he did? Why did he ignore certain stories or split others into separate events or even worse, why did he combine stories?" Yeah, he created quite a work of fiction and I just do not understand. Some of his stories I had forgotten and others I remembered extremely well - so I know they were wrong.
By the time the tales are over, one is left with the question of LEGACY.
Apparently, he did want to leave one. But his complete ignoring of any of this children, other than one step-son, makes you wonder. Even, Sommer, the golden girl - did not get as many mentions as bathroom humor.
A man whom was at the creation of 20th century history, blew off that history so as to be politically correct in the end, and those of his descendants, he left with nothing.
I am not suggesting that you must worry about leaving your descendants anything but you might want to think about it - in terms of history and truth.....
That should be the basis of any of our legacies.
Monday, March 7, 2011
Split
Following that weekend in Munich, father applied for and received a rotation back to the United States. He never asked any of us our opinions, we would have all voted to stay in Germany! So, knowing my father this meant there was another agenda running and that weekend in Munich was probably all it took for him to decide to run as far as possible away from Germany permanently.
Mother continued to be her weird self, father was away as much as possible, us kids just went to school and tried to avoid them both.
It was my birthday, 1972, when father had divorce papers served on mother. His explanation as to why - was to wake her up that she was destroying her marriage. You see mother had become a Southern Baptist. She and father fought like cats and dogs over everything! Food, religion, all aspects of marriage! And us kids got to hear it all.
It was on my birthday, 1973, when the divorce became final in court. So two birthdays utterly destroyed and neither of them cared - they just wanted their war to continue at all costs.
Of course, father then started dating the older sister of my girl friend and that made things very awkward!
Shortly after this, I became a Christian, having fallen in with a group of Hutterites. Father was outraged that any son of his could be so stupid and did not talk to me for the next 32 years!
And so my tale of father now closes. I know less about his other six marriages or him during this time.
Mother continued to be her weird self, father was away as much as possible, us kids just went to school and tried to avoid them both.
It was my birthday, 1972, when father had divorce papers served on mother. His explanation as to why - was to wake her up that she was destroying her marriage. You see mother had become a Southern Baptist. She and father fought like cats and dogs over everything! Food, religion, all aspects of marriage! And us kids got to hear it all.
It was on my birthday, 1973, when the divorce became final in court. So two birthdays utterly destroyed and neither of them cared - they just wanted their war to continue at all costs.
Of course, father then started dating the older sister of my girl friend and that made things very awkward!
Shortly after this, I became a Christian, having fallen in with a group of Hutterites. Father was outraged that any son of his could be so stupid and did not talk to me for the next 32 years!
And so my tale of father now closes. I know less about his other six marriages or him during this time.
Monday, February 28, 2011
November 1967
November was a hard month on me. I was in seventh grade at the Canadian School and had a music class from hell. Mr. Elliot, I have no doubt was a wonderful teacher and a gifted musician but he was unable to understand that there are people in this world whom have no sense of rhythm and can not play a musical instrument! He literally drove me to a nervous breakdown.
At the same time, father found out that Heisenberg was living in Munich and was very agitated to have learned this. When the doctor wrote my school a request for a few days off for me to just get away and recover, father threw me in the car and took me to Munich for a long holiday.
It was fun and I naturally assumed that father had gone to see his old professor, when he disappeared for so many hours one day. Coincidentally, Mr. Elliot did have a nervous breakdown and we ran into each other at the same hotel!
Fast forward to 1984 and I received a letter from my grandmother, it had been written in 1968! Unfortunately, I already knew she had died in 1974 - I had seen a letter in German laying on the table at my father's house announcing her death. So, I now knew for sure that father had lied to me for the length of his life about his family. So, I decided to run his family down and solve the mystery of my father.
At the end of three years, I now knew that father was not whom he claimed to be; I had his real birth certificate and a good piece of his real life's history.
I also discovered that the real man, whose name father had taken back in Wöbbelin - had work on the Italian train system following his release from Wöbbelin and retired to Munich in July of 1967. He had been murdered the very weekend I was in Munich with my father recovering.
Yet another coincidence in father's life? Or did father permanently silence the one man whom could unravel father's real identity ... ?
When you hide behind a wall of lies, well, there is no way you can be thought innocent. Luckily for father, there was nothing ever to tie him and that man together - only in this day and age, with the abundance of information can such a coincidence be ferreted out.
At the same time, father found out that Heisenberg was living in Munich and was very agitated to have learned this. When the doctor wrote my school a request for a few days off for me to just get away and recover, father threw me in the car and took me to Munich for a long holiday.
It was fun and I naturally assumed that father had gone to see his old professor, when he disappeared for so many hours one day. Coincidentally, Mr. Elliot did have a nervous breakdown and we ran into each other at the same hotel!
Fast forward to 1984 and I received a letter from my grandmother, it had been written in 1968! Unfortunately, I already knew she had died in 1974 - I had seen a letter in German laying on the table at my father's house announcing her death. So, I now knew for sure that father had lied to me for the length of his life about his family. So, I decided to run his family down and solve the mystery of my father.
At the end of three years, I now knew that father was not whom he claimed to be; I had his real birth certificate and a good piece of his real life's history.
I also discovered that the real man, whose name father had taken back in Wöbbelin - had work on the Italian train system following his release from Wöbbelin and retired to Munich in July of 1967. He had been murdered the very weekend I was in Munich with my father recovering.
Yet another coincidence in father's life? Or did father permanently silence the one man whom could unravel father's real identity ... ?
When you hide behind a wall of lies, well, there is no way you can be thought innocent. Luckily for father, there was nothing ever to tie him and that man together - only in this day and age, with the abundance of information can such a coincidence be ferreted out.
Monday, February 21, 2011
Narcissus
The first time I read father's autobiography, I was struck at how father was a complete and total narcissus! The entire 1,100 pages completely revolved around him. I scored about three lines, my sister - the golden girl - managed half a page, but one of his step sons about three pages, any of his eight wives - almost not even a mention. The rest a highly fictional story.
Since my last post, I have now reread father's tome a second time and I have been struck, yet again, at what a complete narcissus father was! Not like it should now be a surprise, only it is, due to the level of narcissism we are discussing here! We are discussing mental illness levels. So, if father was a narcissus, then I thought I would read up on this subject on the internet.....
I did not know that narcissism is a variant of being a sociopath. Sociopath I understand very well, I was diagnosed as such at 17 by the US military - whom then wanted me rather badly. But, my father? I also learned that psychopathy is a genetic disorder. Great.
Now I am seeing his family in a new light. Either of his parents passed this trait on to him.
Now I can understand the man whom could walk away from his family in Switzerland to support Hitler, the man whom could be married eight times thinking he was in love and often with more than one bride at a time. Social convention meant nothing to him. I could understand how he could have worked on atomic and hydrogen weapons with no flick of regret or doubt. How his work on the V-3 (A-9) rocket and its purposed mass destruction was completely without understanding. The Reich was his god, Hitler its prophet, my father its worshiper.
And yet this man had seen the slaughter of the tens of thousands at Dora, as the SS cleaned up all of the scientific workers - leaving very few for the Russians to capture. It touched him enough that he converted to Judaism at the end of war. It touched him enough that even to the end, he was seeking if there was a God or not - but he could never equate his life with the existence of the kind of god he sought.
I still have to wonder at some of what I know about my father. Not the least of which is why did he write an autobiography that would be largely a work of fiction ..... ?
Since my last post, I have now reread father's tome a second time and I have been struck, yet again, at what a complete narcissus father was! Not like it should now be a surprise, only it is, due to the level of narcissism we are discussing here! We are discussing mental illness levels. So, if father was a narcissus, then I thought I would read up on this subject on the internet.....
I did not know that narcissism is a variant of being a sociopath. Sociopath I understand very well, I was diagnosed as such at 17 by the US military - whom then wanted me rather badly. But, my father? I also learned that psychopathy is a genetic disorder. Great.
Now I am seeing his family in a new light. Either of his parents passed this trait on to him.
Now I can understand the man whom could walk away from his family in Switzerland to support Hitler, the man whom could be married eight times thinking he was in love and often with more than one bride at a time. Social convention meant nothing to him. I could understand how he could have worked on atomic and hydrogen weapons with no flick of regret or doubt. How his work on the V-3 (A-9) rocket and its purposed mass destruction was completely without understanding. The Reich was his god, Hitler its prophet, my father its worshiper.
And yet this man had seen the slaughter of the tens of thousands at Dora, as the SS cleaned up all of the scientific workers - leaving very few for the Russians to capture. It touched him enough that he converted to Judaism at the end of war. It touched him enough that even to the end, he was seeking if there was a God or not - but he could never equate his life with the existence of the kind of god he sought.
I still have to wonder at some of what I know about my father. Not the least of which is why did he write an autobiography that would be largely a work of fiction ..... ?
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Another Broken Arrow
Over the weekend I was thinking about the fun Broken Arrows brought to this young man. Lots of trucks, cranes, missiles, military types all over and I was always a sucker for anything destructive!
And I remembered of a little incident outside of Portland, Oregon. I can not even begin to remember the year or even where in Portland we were - so I had to be mighty young!
Now one of the ways to go to the Portland zoo, back before they build a superhighway straight into there was to drive southwest through Portland and then take this little road that went through a small tunnel. As we reached the tunnel, an Air Force jeep came through and blocked off the roadway. No big deal - that meant the day was about to get more exciting.
My father got out, identified himself and asked what was up. Before the poor MP could even answer - there came this horrendous crash and shriek of metal from the tunnel. Yeah, something big had just made a mess. Dad and the MP took off running - and hey, no one to stop me - I went to! And, what a sight I saw!
Seems a tractor trailer was hauling a missile back towards Portland and had impacted the warhead with the top of the tunnel. The missile was now ejected out of its cradle and lay half on, half off the cradle. The nose cone was mashed horribly. Father let lose a series of oaths you would not have believed!
Dad grabbed the radio, ran for the Portland side of the tunnel and radioed into the Base for a decontamination team, full geared inspectors, a suit for him and two cranes to be brought in from the south. What an exciting day!
Of course, I got to go through decontamination and you know I really do not like stripping in public. Just a modesty issue I have never overcome.
In due course of the day, they found the warhead (which was supposed to have been removed prior to transport!) was intact; very little radiation was evident in the area - other than the roof of the tunnel and ground below; and it took close to a week to extract that puppy from the tunnel and reload onto another carrier - this time with the warhead safely removed!
I never got to see if I glowed in the dark or not. Oh yeah, good times!
And I remembered of a little incident outside of Portland, Oregon. I can not even begin to remember the year or even where in Portland we were - so I had to be mighty young!
Now one of the ways to go to the Portland zoo, back before they build a superhighway straight into there was to drive southwest through Portland and then take this little road that went through a small tunnel. As we reached the tunnel, an Air Force jeep came through and blocked off the roadway. No big deal - that meant the day was about to get more exciting.
My father got out, identified himself and asked what was up. Before the poor MP could even answer - there came this horrendous crash and shriek of metal from the tunnel. Yeah, something big had just made a mess. Dad and the MP took off running - and hey, no one to stop me - I went to! And, what a sight I saw!
Seems a tractor trailer was hauling a missile back towards Portland and had impacted the warhead with the top of the tunnel. The missile was now ejected out of its cradle and lay half on, half off the cradle. The nose cone was mashed horribly. Father let lose a series of oaths you would not have believed!
Dad grabbed the radio, ran for the Portland side of the tunnel and radioed into the Base for a decontamination team, full geared inspectors, a suit for him and two cranes to be brought in from the south. What an exciting day!
Of course, I got to go through decontamination and you know I really do not like stripping in public. Just a modesty issue I have never overcome.
In due course of the day, they found the warhead (which was supposed to have been removed prior to transport!) was intact; very little radiation was evident in the area - other than the roof of the tunnel and ground below; and it took close to a week to extract that puppy from the tunnel and reload onto another carrier - this time with the warhead safely removed!
I never got to see if I glowed in the dark or not. Oh yeah, good times!
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
Broken Arrow
The night after our being detained by Catalonian Separatists, we headed off again in the cooler night air, continuing on towards Madrid.
Again in a mountainous area, at a bend in the road, you guessed it - another roadblock! Just as the night before, an uniformed officer asked for our papers. Only this guy was really nervous - so nervous that father was actual getting concerned for our safety! Father tried to get a conversation going but the guy just got on his radio and talked so rapidly no one knew what he was saying.
Several minutes later, a military jeep drives up with some - what I am guessing were Spanish MPs. One of them was quite fluent in English and from the car I caught the gist of the conversations - they had managed to drive too close to the shoulder of the road with a tractor trailer hauling a nuke and rolled it.
Father then identified himself, more talking on the radio and they were off - father to inspect said nuke and to supervise the correct reloading to the carrier on the trailer.
Once completed, father returned and we drove on with lots of smiles and hand waving by those still working on the mess they had made.
It was the first time I had ever seen one of the newer missiles and I was impressed. No idea as to which one it was but it was cool to see something you heard about but no one had any pictures of.....
Again in a mountainous area, at a bend in the road, you guessed it - another roadblock! Just as the night before, an uniformed officer asked for our papers. Only this guy was really nervous - so nervous that father was actual getting concerned for our safety! Father tried to get a conversation going but the guy just got on his radio and talked so rapidly no one knew what he was saying.
Several minutes later, a military jeep drives up with some - what I am guessing were Spanish MPs. One of them was quite fluent in English and from the car I caught the gist of the conversations - they had managed to drive too close to the shoulder of the road with a tractor trailer hauling a nuke and rolled it.
Father then identified himself, more talking on the radio and they were off - father to inspect said nuke and to supervise the correct reloading to the carrier on the trailer.
Once completed, father returned and we drove on with lots of smiles and hand waving by those still working on the mess they had made.
It was the first time I had ever seen one of the newer missiles and I was impressed. No idea as to which one it was but it was cool to see something you heard about but no one had any pictures of.....
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
Held In Catalonia
In 1966 father decided we needed to spend the summer camping our way through Spain, Portugal and of course - Gibraltar. Summer was perhaps a poor choice since the heat was unbelievable - hitting 121 on several occasions! I can remember watching the tar on the roads bubbling when we would stop for a lunch or stretching.
So, we drove and camped our way south through France, through Andorra and then down into Spain.
It was late at night when we entered Spain. As we wound down the narrow gravel road from Andorra and the heights of the Pyrenees Mountains, we were forced to stop at a roadblock. A uniformed officer approached, asked for our papers, was delighted to practice his English and then spent some time on a walkie-talkie. Returning the papers, he explained that the road would be closed for a few hours due to highway construction. So, we were stuck.
About thirty minutes later a group of women approached, walking up the road, set up a table and motioned us to come join them. A large pot was set out, along with plates and bowls. They were providing a meal! We marveled at Spanish hospitality! The soup was good but the bread was first class! Dad and the officer talked quite a bit - father in Spanish, the officer in English. Though we could not know it, father was about to use a whole lot more Spanish in an official capacity!
Once done, the ladies packed up all of their stuff and trotted back down the road and around a bend we could not see beyond. A short time later the officer returned again and told us that we could now pass the construction zone but to be very careful as workers were still on the roadway and to stay far right. So we started down and around the bend.
What we were to pass by was miles of what looked like concrete water pipe. Workers, hundreds of them, were busy drilling holes in the pipe. It made no sense, but having no real knowledge of construction, who knows what they were doing! We continued on through the night, eventually reaching a campground by early morning, where we set up and went to bed.
About mid-day we were awaken by the local police whom told us they were interviewing all travelers and wanted to know if we had come from the north the night before. We said we had and then father told them all about the road construction the night before, the great soup and bread, and then being allowed to continue on after a while.
We then learned that Catalonian Separatists had bee sabotaging the new water pipe construction project. Ah, that explains all of the holes in the pipe - they were making it unusable! Then across many questions we were to learn about Franco's problems in Catalonia, the guerrilla movement and the policeman's concerns over Communist activities in the area. Of course, as we were to find, Franco's freedom was so heavily socialist and the people so preyed upon by the government - no wonder people were involved in what father called Monkey Warfare.....
So, we drove and camped our way south through France, through Andorra and then down into Spain.
It was late at night when we entered Spain. As we wound down the narrow gravel road from Andorra and the heights of the Pyrenees Mountains, we were forced to stop at a roadblock. A uniformed officer approached, asked for our papers, was delighted to practice his English and then spent some time on a walkie-talkie. Returning the papers, he explained that the road would be closed for a few hours due to highway construction. So, we were stuck.
About thirty minutes later a group of women approached, walking up the road, set up a table and motioned us to come join them. A large pot was set out, along with plates and bowls. They were providing a meal! We marveled at Spanish hospitality! The soup was good but the bread was first class! Dad and the officer talked quite a bit - father in Spanish, the officer in English. Though we could not know it, father was about to use a whole lot more Spanish in an official capacity!
Once done, the ladies packed up all of their stuff and trotted back down the road and around a bend we could not see beyond. A short time later the officer returned again and told us that we could now pass the construction zone but to be very careful as workers were still on the roadway and to stay far right. So we started down and around the bend.
What we were to pass by was miles of what looked like concrete water pipe. Workers, hundreds of them, were busy drilling holes in the pipe. It made no sense, but having no real knowledge of construction, who knows what they were doing! We continued on through the night, eventually reaching a campground by early morning, where we set up and went to bed.
About mid-day we were awaken by the local police whom told us they were interviewing all travelers and wanted to know if we had come from the north the night before. We said we had and then father told them all about the road construction the night before, the great soup and bread, and then being allowed to continue on after a while.
We then learned that Catalonian Separatists had bee sabotaging the new water pipe construction project. Ah, that explains all of the holes in the pipe - they were making it unusable! Then across many questions we were to learn about Franco's problems in Catalonia, the guerrilla movement and the policeman's concerns over Communist activities in the area. Of course, as we were to find, Franco's freedom was so heavily socialist and the people so preyed upon by the government - no wonder people were involved in what father called Monkey Warfare.....
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
James Bond For Real?
My father made a point of taking me to all of the opening nights for James Bond films. Dr. No - stupid, Goldfinger - mostly stupid by I liked the girl with the rifle, Thunderball - pure gold.
I was not really impressed with the beginning of Thunderball and I felt real sorry for that snake if it was real and thrown from one vehicle to another. The take over of the Vulcan bomber, priceless. I always loved Delta wing aircraft and the Vulcan was probably the largest and longest living of all of these 1950's relics.
Suddenly, the movie was stopped, the lights came up and an officer standing at the front of the theater ordered all disaster preparedness personnel to report to the lobby immediately. Father left, the movie restarted and about three hours later father returned to take me home..... He was very angry over being called out of a movie and not being reimbursed the admissions price! Plus the NATO theater was a 70 mile drive one way for us.
Seems someone in the audience was familiar enough with the breathing systems on the Vulcan and wondered if the same was in usage on the B-52 and Convair's Delta Dagger (F-102), both nuclear equipped. If it was multi-passenger and could carry a nuke, its air systems were thoroughly investigated that evening.
I can't say whether or not any problem was actually found, but I am sure that after the release of Thunderball - there was no possibility any gassing of the crew, via the movie plot scenario, as being any longer a possibility.
Suddenly, the movie was stopped, the lights came up and an officer standing at the front of the theater ordered all disaster preparedness personnel to report to the lobby immediately. Father left, the movie restarted and about three hours later father returned to take me home..... He was very angry over being called out of a movie and not being reimbursed the admissions price! Plus the NATO theater was a 70 mile drive one way for us.
Seems someone in the audience was familiar enough with the breathing systems on the Vulcan and wondered if the same was in usage on the B-52 and Convair's Delta Dagger (F-102), both nuclear equipped. If it was multi-passenger and could carry a nuke, its air systems were thoroughly investigated that evening.
I can't say whether or not any problem was actually found, but I am sure that after the release of Thunderball - there was no possibility any gassing of the crew, via the movie plot scenario, as being any longer a possibility.
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
OMG Off Spain
It was my birthday 1966. The family all went to Basle for the winter carnival - my favorite!, to celebrate. Okay it is really my and my mother's birthday, we were born on the same day and knowing my father this was really for her but I will claim it! :^)
On January 17, we headed back for home, up in the little notch where Belgium, Luxembourg and France are all joined together. But, something was wrong on the Swiss - French border, Father was requested to leave the car and go to the guard shack. Very odd.
When he came back, he was really in a state of agitation. Seems the US had lost a B-52 over Spain, equipped with four Hydrogen Bombs! Three had been found, one was missing. Nothing like one of your toys going missing on you. (Not even getting into the whole discussion of how on Earth he and Edvard were able to justify what they had created!)
So, we had a very quiet ride home, were dropped off and father headed for the nearest NATO base for an emergency flight to Spain - in winter - life is really tough. The school was all a buzz over this. News leaks out of Upper Hayford let us know that the bomb had been found almost immediately - but the idiots were going to leave it where it lay because the searchers had broken military search routine in finding it. Wasn't finding it the whole point? But it lay another 9 weeks until it was re-discovered, and then could be properly raised. Father was so angry when he got home, you have no idea..... I have no idea if any of his complaints against the wackos responsible had any effect.
I know from my secret readings in father's books, that things were not going to go well for those poor villagers whom had been contaminated by plutonium when the three bombs, which hit ground, had blown their conventional detonators. I remember at the time reading in the newspaper of villagers kicking sand on the bombs to put the fires out; posing for pictures sitting on the bomb casings, and living life as usual - in a contaminated environment. I never did see any reports come out on their life expectancies or deaths in public sources. Just not news I guess when you have shots of President Johnson holding up his beagles by their ears or whatever. And, I try not to even search on such subjects on the internet lest I draw undesired attention.
Prior to this I had always held the US military in high esteem. But, if you were so anal as to "stick" to a scheduled search and then reprimand those whom broke protocol to find what you were looking for - doesn't this point to a significant problem within the power structure of the military? Until January 1966, I had wanted a career in the US military, like my father, but now I started to watch, listen, remember and think on what I was hearing.....
On January 17, we headed back for home, up in the little notch where Belgium, Luxembourg and France are all joined together. But, something was wrong on the Swiss - French border, Father was requested to leave the car and go to the guard shack. Very odd.
When he came back, he was really in a state of agitation. Seems the US had lost a B-52 over Spain, equipped with four Hydrogen Bombs! Three had been found, one was missing. Nothing like one of your toys going missing on you. (Not even getting into the whole discussion of how on Earth he and Edvard were able to justify what they had created!)
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| Father, faced turned from camera |
I know from my secret readings in father's books, that things were not going to go well for those poor villagers whom had been contaminated by plutonium when the three bombs, which hit ground, had blown their conventional detonators. I remember at the time reading in the newspaper of villagers kicking sand on the bombs to put the fires out; posing for pictures sitting on the bomb casings, and living life as usual - in a contaminated environment. I never did see any reports come out on their life expectancies or deaths in public sources. Just not news I guess when you have shots of President Johnson holding up his beagles by their ears or whatever. And, I try not to even search on such subjects on the internet lest I draw undesired attention.
Prior to this I had always held the US military in high esteem. But, if you were so anal as to "stick" to a scheduled search and then reprimand those whom broke protocol to find what you were looking for - doesn't this point to a significant problem within the power structure of the military? Until January 1966, I had wanted a career in the US military, like my father, but now I started to watch, listen, remember and think on what I was hearing.....
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
All Those TDYs
Father was gone so much of the time from 1962 on, that one is forced to consider what it was the government had him up to! You can look at world events, look backwards in history later on, as well as, note interesting occurrences. In this case, occurrences may have more of a clue than usual and we knew almost instantly what was up once the German State Police raided the village!
I was in training to be a long distance runner, so every morning I was out the door at 5 am for a cross-country training practice at mother's insistance. Make no mistake, this was not my idea. But, there was a little shoemaker about half way through my run and I would spend several minutes with him every morning to keep my time average high for mother's records. He was a very nice man. Lets call him Hans.
Hans was in this later sixties, sort of a broken man I would call him. He knew almost nothing of the village history and carefully avoided all wartime discussions. He made himself more interesting than he should have been.
One Saturday morning, even before the cows were up, I ran past Hans' and noticed the shop in disarray, with no Hans. I ran for the Police. Not the friendliest people in town but they were honest and reliable. The Sargent was ash white when I told him Hans was missing. Within minutes, before I could even get out the door - there were several calls concerning missing citizens. The Sargent understood what I could not fathom. I jogged back past the shop and now the State Police were there and I was instantly detained for being "of interest".
One of the patrolmen sat and told me about how they were hunting Nazi war criminals and Hans had been one of those being sought. I then repeated how I had reported Hans' absence to the local police and had over heard of missing people all over the Pfaltz.... The officer swore, ran for the door and quickly sped away.
I quietly re-entered Hans' little shop and remembered the humor and fun we had enjoyed. I have always had the utmost respect for my elders, because they were interesting and I saw value in their knowledge. I saw Hans had dropped a vest pocket wallet, which I picked up. I burned the photos and papers inside, to his memory and perhaps protection. I kept his SS Identification, dated August 1944, issued in Odessa.
Father moved us from the village to military housing following this. There are no coincidences in life, one did not have to search far to find a similar SS Id Card carefully hidden amongst my father's papers. This I followed up with also collecting my uncle Fritz's as well. The three of them I imagine make quite a unique collection. I have yet to see even one, even in photographs on the internet. Hmmmmmm.....
However, this post is not about outlawed SS organizations, it is about the SS funding rocket research with the Egyptians in order to hasten the removal of the Jewish State in 1962 through 1967. Egypt finally went with the Russian Scud missile as its offensive deterrent to the Jewish "aggression". Nasser was nothing if not a scum bag himself.
As for father? That is a pretty easy one: he and his fellow team from the V-3 (A-9) were all in on the project. They all had the backgrounds, were all German and the three also had the nuclear background - because a missile has to deliver something! Was the US Military Intelligence involved? Was father and his friends all on contract to the Mossad? Military to CIA to Mossad? Certainly, enough of their co-workers met with horrible deaths back in Germany. Makes you wonder about their absences and whom exactly was fingering German Nationals and European suppliers..... Someone was feeding the Mossad and father was a Jewish convert after all. To further add to the discussion, he received his second Bronze Star just after the missiles failed to launch in 1967 War.
I was in training to be a long distance runner, so every morning I was out the door at 5 am for a cross-country training practice at mother's insistance. Make no mistake, this was not my idea. But, there was a little shoemaker about half way through my run and I would spend several minutes with him every morning to keep my time average high for mother's records. He was a very nice man. Lets call him Hans.
Hans was in this later sixties, sort of a broken man I would call him. He knew almost nothing of the village history and carefully avoided all wartime discussions. He made himself more interesting than he should have been.
One Saturday morning, even before the cows were up, I ran past Hans' and noticed the shop in disarray, with no Hans. I ran for the Police. Not the friendliest people in town but they were honest and reliable. The Sargent was ash white when I told him Hans was missing. Within minutes, before I could even get out the door - there were several calls concerning missing citizens. The Sargent understood what I could not fathom. I jogged back past the shop and now the State Police were there and I was instantly detained for being "of interest".
One of the patrolmen sat and told me about how they were hunting Nazi war criminals and Hans had been one of those being sought. I then repeated how I had reported Hans' absence to the local police and had over heard of missing people all over the Pfaltz.... The officer swore, ran for the door and quickly sped away.
I quietly re-entered Hans' little shop and remembered the humor and fun we had enjoyed. I have always had the utmost respect for my elders, because they were interesting and I saw value in their knowledge. I saw Hans had dropped a vest pocket wallet, which I picked up. I burned the photos and papers inside, to his memory and perhaps protection. I kept his SS Identification, dated August 1944, issued in Odessa.
Father moved us from the village to military housing following this. There are no coincidences in life, one did not have to search far to find a similar SS Id Card carefully hidden amongst my father's papers. This I followed up with also collecting my uncle Fritz's as well. The three of them I imagine make quite a unique collection. I have yet to see even one, even in photographs on the internet. Hmmmmmm.....
However, this post is not about outlawed SS organizations, it is about the SS funding rocket research with the Egyptians in order to hasten the removal of the Jewish State in 1962 through 1967. Egypt finally went with the Russian Scud missile as its offensive deterrent to the Jewish "aggression". Nasser was nothing if not a scum bag himself.
As for father? That is a pretty easy one: he and his fellow team from the V-3 (A-9) were all in on the project. They all had the backgrounds, were all German and the three also had the nuclear background - because a missile has to deliver something! Was the US Military Intelligence involved? Was father and his friends all on contract to the Mossad? Military to CIA to Mossad? Certainly, enough of their co-workers met with horrible deaths back in Germany. Makes you wonder about their absences and whom exactly was fingering German Nationals and European suppliers..... Someone was feeding the Mossad and father was a Jewish convert after all. To further add to the discussion, he received his second Bronze Star just after the missiles failed to launch in 1967 War.
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
Tales of Pork
The US used to have a base outside of Tripoli, obviously, if my father was involved - nasty stuff was present. The base had been there since the end of World War II. And it seems that there was a certain young officer in the Libyan Army whom was attempting to breech the base perimeter either for the sake of gaining arms or cause an international incident.
What is one to do? The US Government under Lynden B. Johnson was committed to not offending host countries, but here was a situation where a loose cannon officer was trying to cause an incident and rightfully, even by treaty should be shot for his attempts to scale the wire..
Of course, he did get the incident he sought, just only not quite the way he thought it would go.
Father ordered the water trucks filled with the deep fry fat (hot pork grease) from the NCO club and then driven out to the fence the radicals were gathering near for their morning - "go ahead and blow me off this wire with a fire hose" routine.
The group rushed the fence, a translator warned them of what would happen and they dared the pumpers to make them unclean.
Yeah, a certain young Lieutenant Gaddafi was completely hosed down and left standing covered in pork fat.
Father had a very great laugh over that one. Of course, officially he was reprimanded by the US State Department, as the Department of Defense promoted him at the same time.
As an aside to this tale, father expressed complete satisfaction at having taken a situation and defused it without the taking of human life. Since the wire was now even unclean, no one attempted to scale it again.....
What is one to do? The US Government under Lynden B. Johnson was committed to not offending host countries, but here was a situation where a loose cannon officer was trying to cause an incident and rightfully, even by treaty should be shot for his attempts to scale the wire..
Of course, he did get the incident he sought, just only not quite the way he thought it would go.
Father ordered the water trucks filled with the deep fry fat (hot pork grease) from the NCO club and then driven out to the fence the radicals were gathering near for their morning - "go ahead and blow me off this wire with a fire hose" routine.
The group rushed the fence, a translator warned them of what would happen and they dared the pumpers to make them unclean.
Yeah, a certain young Lieutenant Gaddafi was completely hosed down and left standing covered in pork fat.
Father had a very great laugh over that one. Of course, officially he was reprimanded by the US State Department, as the Department of Defense promoted him at the same time.
As an aside to this tale, father expressed complete satisfaction at having taken a situation and defused it without the taking of human life. Since the wire was now even unclean, no one attempted to scale it again.....
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